


The Little Wolf

by bmlhillenkeene



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, kid!Monroe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmlhillenkeene/pseuds/bmlhillenkeene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking for the strange dog who inadvertantly helped solve the Missing Child case brings Nick face to face with his Grimm destiny. Juliette faces a choice, plunge headfirst into this insane world she is introduced to, or run screaming. And Monroe... Monroe just hopes that all the stories his grandmother told him about the Grimm aren't true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but I had to write this.
> 
> 1\. I wanted to see how the tv show would play out of Monroe was a kid, and how that would affect the characters and Nick's interaction with the Wesan world.  
> 2\. I wanted Nick and Juilette to have their happy ever after, and for that I needed her to find out early.  
> 3\. Please don't kill me!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s1242.photobucket.com/user/dragons_fire1/media/thelittlewolf_zps01fd8ac0.png.html)  
> 

Nick pulled his jacket tighter around him and swung his torch towards the dense brush between the trees of the park, hoping to catch some glimpse of his quarry. He could hear Juliette in the distance calling softly.

“Here boy! Come on girl!”

He didn’t hold out too much hope of finding anything, after all, the dog they were looking for was confirmed to run away from people. Nick doubted they would have much luck drawing it out of its hiding place.

But he kept looking, just in case.

~*~

It had started with a murdered college student, and escalated by a missing child.

Since finding Robin’s backpack in the woods they’d been doing a full canvass of the entire area, talking with everyone they could, but no one could remember anything odd happening. It was like she had just vanished into thin air.

“There’s been a dog hanging round.” One old lady told Nick, her eyes sharp behind her glasses. “Big and gangly looking. Follows some of the kids around. Doesn’t do anything else, and when anyone tries to touch it, it just runs away into the park. Odd thing though.” She said, giving Nick a small shrug. “It seemed pretty intent on the mailman this morning.”

“Don’t all dogs chase the mailman?” Nick couldn’t help but ask.

The lady shrugged again. “Like I said, dog runs away if anyone takes a step towards it, just seemed strange that it was worrying at the mailman like that. He hit it pretty hard with something the way it was yelping.” She offered up a small smile. “Sorry Detective. I’ve been inside or out in the back garden all day doing laundry, the only reason I looked out front was because the dog was making so much noise.”

Nick nodded. “Thanks anyway m’am.” He said, closing his notebook on her statement and turning to leave. He met up with Hank as he was leaving the next house and they compared notes. “I think maybe we should look into the mailman.” Nick suggested.

Hank nodded. “Yeah, he could have hidden her in the van. At this stage we should investigate everything.”

It didn’t take long to get a warrant to search the mail truck, and a sniffer dog had picked up Robin’s scent, and from there things looked to be easy. With a host of officers backing them up, they’d searched the mailman’s house from top to bottom and found the terrified little girl in the basement. The fight that happened after was not what Nick had expected. But then, nothing had been really normal since his Aunt Marie had walked back into his life.

But it had ended up alright, with the mailman in custody and Robin back safe at home with her parents. 

~*~

Which did not, of course, explain what Nick was doing in the park, looking for a dog that really didn’t want to be found. But he supposed it was inevitable, being in love with a vet, that when he’d mentioned the mailman had hit and possibly injured a dog, that Juliette would insist they needed to go out and check on it.

“It’s the right thing to do.” She’d insisted over his protests that the dog was antisocial, and while it hadn’t attacked anything yet, it might do so when injured. “If it wasn’t for it, you wouldn’t have even known to look into the mailman.”

So he’d armed himself with a torch and gone out looking, Juliette following him with a pleased smile. That had been hours ago, and the predawn light was starting to inch its way into the sky. He was cold and tired and wanted nothing more than to go back home to bed.

There was a small whimpering sound and Nick quickly swung the torch bean round. What he saw confused him for a moment, the sight of pink skin and too wide eyes staring at him. A split second later the whimper turned into a yelp and a body of fur slammed into his legs before scrambling to get away.

Shoving the odd sight to the back of his mind, where the rest of those strange things were being kept until he could really talk with his Aunt Marie, he reached for the dog, letting go of the hold he’d managed to get of his tail when the animal turned and snapped at him. The dog took off, but it was obvious it was injured, it stumbled more than anything and Nick really didn’t think he was going to have to chase it for long.

“Juliette!” he called. “Juliette I found it!”

He could see Juliette’s torchlight change direction towards him, and he kept his own trained on the dog. He was right, the chase didn’t last long, the dog stumbled again and didn’t get back up, panting hard and whimpering. Nick stopped just out of attacking distance and waited for Juliette to join him.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we sedate it and take it back home for me to look at.” Juliette told him.

Juliette inched forwards and Nick tensed when the dog snapped at her, but Juliette pressed on, murmuring reassurances, and the dog gave nothing more than a startled yelp when the needle of sedative Juliette had ready prepared, sank into its back leg. It kicked out and tried to get back to its feet, but it was fast acting and seconds later the dog slumped.

Juliette crowded forward, pressing her fingers to the fur, checking for damage.

Nick’s attention was stolen trying to work out exactly how they were going to get the bog dog back to the car when Juliette let out a started scream. Nick tensed again, ready for anything.

Anything, it seemed, but the very young, very human body lying where the dog had been.


	2. Chapter 2

It took more time than Nick was happy with to get the kid back to the car, between trying to convince Juliette that she wasn’t seeing things, and convincing himself he wasn’t seeing things, and carrying a very naked little boy through the park just before dawn.

It hadn’t ended when they reached the car, because then he’d had to talk Juliette out of calling a doctor, because seriously, what happened if the kid turned back into a dog? Or something else. Finally she had agreed they would take him home, they would patch him up, and then Nick would go and speak with Aunt Marie, and hopefully get some desperately needed answers.

Juliette did what she could, but the only noticeable wound was a day old bruise across the small of his back, black and purple. 

“We need to take him to a hospital.” Juliette said worriedly. “He might have damage to his spine getting hot so hard to leave a bruise like that.”

“I know.” Nick said running hands through his hair. “I know… but…”

Juliette nodded miserably. “I know.” She answered him, and then she started to shake as the shock of what she had seen set in. Nick caught her up in a tight hug before helping her to the chair beside the couch.

“I need to talk to Aunt Marie.” He said, repeating himself for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Go.” Juliette told him, fingers tangled in her own hair, but her eyes trained on the slight rise and fall of the boys back under the blanket she’d tucked around him.

Nick nodded. “You’ll be alright?” he asked her.

Her eyes shifted to him and he tried to force a smile for her, but he didn’t know what he could say, so he left.

~*~

“A Blutbad.” Aunt Marie said her voice unhappy and weak.

“A what?” Nick asked.

Aunt Marie gave a sigh, squeezing his hand. “Nick, listen to me… You need to kill it.”

Nick recoiled, eyes wide. “I need to-? What? No! It’s a little boy!” he sucked in a breath, had the cancer she was suffering somehow done something to her? “Aunt Marie I-“

“Blutbadden are killers Nick, just like the one who took that little girl, and killed that young woman. They are born killers and they need to be dealt with before they become a problem.” Her fingers dug into his hand, strong and powerful. “Not all Wesan are like that…” she said, and her eyes flicked aside. “Not all of them and you need to trust your instincts and do the right thing.”

Nick stared at her, trying to work out what she meant and how she meant it. What were Wesan, why were they to be trusted by Blutbadden not to be? How could she know if the little boy he and Juliette had found was one of these Blutbadden and not a Wesan? He opened his mouth to ask her, but she cut him off with a piercing stare.

“It’s your duty Nick.” She told him. “Do you still have it? What I gave you?”

He nodded, numbly.

“Keep it safe.” She said, her voice growing hoarse. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to explain… but all the knowledge you need… you’ll find it in my trailer.”  
She drifted off before he could think of anything else to say, anything else to ask. He stared at her, numb and in shock, trying to make sense of everything she had told him, everything he had been seeing.

He left the room when the nurse roused him to leave and drove home. He stared at the house when he arrived, taking in the stillness. The boy would be out for the day, Juliette had worried about the dosage, while not dangerous for a dog, could have different effects on a child. But he had at least a day to work out what Aunt Marie had said, to find out what he needed to know.

Not that he would be killing anyone, especially not the little boy sleeping on his couch.

~*~

“Juliette?” Nick called, closing the door.

“Here.” She called back, and he turned to find her in the kitchen, cup of something warm and steaming in her hands.

His eyes flicked across to the boy, still curled up under the blanket, twitching and whimpering every time he did.

“The sedative is wearing off.” Juliette told him.

He nodded and made his way to her, dropping the book he’d taken from the trailer onto the kitchen sideboard, letting it fall open to the page he’d been staring at blankly for hours. “I talked with Aunt Marie.” He said

Juliette took a shaky sounding breath. “And?”

He couldn’t look at her. “She says he’s a… Blutbad…” he sighed. “Near as I can tell a werewolf.”

Juliette made a sound, but he couldn’t tell if it was a believing sound or not, and he really didn’t want to look at her to find out. “Thing is…” he started, because he was going to have to explain this. “I’m apparently a Grimm… someone who can see monsters. Everything in Aunt Marie’s trailer, it’s all books like this, on monsters, filled with information about them, and ways to kill them. That’s what I’m supposed to do… kill them…” he shot another look across the room to the boy. “Kill him.”

“Nick?” Juliette said, and he could feel her hand, just a centimetre away from touching him. “Nick… what does this even mean?”

He turned to her then, because he had to. He had to see her. She was as tired as he was, as confused as him, and if she chose to walk away from him right now he wouldn’t blame her.

“I don’t know.” He said honestly. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean. I don’t know why I’m seeing things. I can’t explain how that boy was a dog, I don’t know!” he clawed his hands into his hair in frustration.

There was a long silence, broken only by the soft whimpers of pain from the couch.

“I don’t know what to do.” He admitted, more afraid than he wanted to tell her, but more afraid not to. “Juliette I-?”

She touched him then, her fingers sliding over his own and tugging them free of his hair to hold them. “I believe you.” She said, and something loosened in his chest at that. She looked back at the couch as well. “I can’t not believe you.”

“I’m not going to kill him.” He said, because he had to, because he needed to say it out loud after reading that book and all the evils he could understand within. “I can’t.”

“I know Nick.” She said, and the smile she gave him was real in emotion of not convincing in execution. “I know.” And she took a step forward to rest her head on his shoulder. “Good thing I’m a vet.” She murmured softly.

Nick couldn’t help the choked laugh that wrung out of him, and he wished… just wished…


	3. Chapter 3

Nick woke from a fitful sleep on the chair sometime close to four in the morning. He’d sent Juliette up to bed, promising her he would sleep himself. He hadn’t really intended to keep that promise, intending to stay up just in case the boy should wake… Just in case his aunt was right. 

But the nerve wracking last few days had caught up with him, and he’d drifted off to sleep not long after Juliette had gone upstairs.

It took him a moment to realise what had woken him. The faint whimpers of the child were being stifled and he opened his eyes, not surprised to find the boy awake, pressed against the fair end of the couch, curled up in a way that couldn’t be making his back feel good, with the blanket they’d draped around him stuffed into his mouth. The dim kitchen lights reflected off impossibly huge brown eyes, which were trained on Nick.

Nick eyed the boy for a long moment before shifting.

The boy let out a strangled sounding yelp and tipped himself over the armrest of the chair to land on the floor with a pain filled howl, his back making first contact with the hardwood floor. Nock heard Juliette throwing herself out of bed, and surged up from his seat, concerned.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” the little boy cried out, scrambling away from Nick, his face morphing into something very similar to the creature, the Blutbad, he’d taken down to save that little girl. But there was nothing at all threatening or frightening about this face. The boy scrambled until his back hit the stairs and he let out another, smaller, quieter, yowl of pain and curled up. “Please don’t kill me. Please… I’ll be good; I promise I’ll be good.”

Nick didn’t approach, instead he crouched down, as close to eyelevel as he could get and held his hands up. “Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Nick, I’m a police detective-“

The boy whimpered again. “Please…” and then he curled up further and Nick was horrified to see him start to cry.

“Nick?” Juliette called, coming down the stairs, cautiously.

The boy didn’t move, just curled up tighter.

“It’s ok Juliette. I was just telling out guest that I’m a police detective. I was hoping he might be able to give me his name so I could see if we can find his parents.” Nick said, as calmly, and reassuringly as he could manage.

His words only made the boy cry harder.

“Can you tell me your name?” Nick tried, feeling better when Juliette crouched down just behind him. “No one’s going to kill you.” He tried when he got no answer. “I won’t let them.”

The boy fisted a hand in his eye and gulped in a breath, confusion clear on his face. “But…” he choked out. “But you’re a… a Grimm…” the last word was whispered softly, like a child talked about the bogeyman.

Nick couldn’t stop the stab of unease that went through him that maybe that was just what he was to this boy. If other Grimm’s did as Aunt Marie had advised him to do, then to a Blutbad child he really would be that scary monster parents told their children about.

“Nick won’t hurt you.” Juliette weighed in suddenly. “His job is to help people, not kill them.” The boy didn’t uncurl, and kept his eyes squarely on Nick, like he expected an attack at any moment. “Can you tell us your name?” Juliette pressed softly, and Nick didn’t dare breathe, just in case.

The boy’s eyes flickered for a moment to Juliette, still very confused. “Monroe.” Came the tiny admission.

Juliette smiled, in that way she did with frightened animals in her surgery. “Monroe. That’s a nice name. Do you know what your mummy and daddy are called? We can-“

The mention of his parents sent Monroe into a flurry of movement, which stilled just as quickly with a whimper of pain. “Please don’t put me on fire!” he said, eyes back on Nick, pleading and frightened. “I’m sorry I was bad. I didn’t know it was bad. I didn’t mean…” and he choked off into desperate, heart-breaking sobs.

Neither Nick, nor Juliette moved for a long moment, and then Juliette surged forward, ignoring very warning she had seen in the book Nick had brought in with him, to haul Monroe into a hug.

~*~

Hours later, Monroe was asleep again, this time through pure exhaustion and they’d carefully moved him upstairs to their bed. The bruise on his back looked worse, and Juliette was still worried about injuries, but neither of them knew what to do. Could they take him to a hospital?

“What do we do?” Juliette asked him, eyes locked on the coffee in her mug.

Nick shrugged. He didn’t know that there was anything they could do.

“He really thought you were going to kill him.” Juliette continued, shock in her voice. 

Nick could only nod. Monroe had been terrified of him, and that made him feel ill. After feeling such trust from Robin Howl just over 24 hours ago, from knowing that he had save a little girls life, to having this little boy afraid of him. It was shocking and more than a little sickening.

“What do we do?” Juliette repeated.

“Fire.” Nick replied, and held up his hands to wave off her wide eyed surprise. “No! God no!” he said, disturbed that the thought he might mean… well, that the thought had crossed her mind at all. “He said ‘Please don’t put me on fire’ after we mentioned his parents. Maybe there’s some information about a fire?” He was clutching at straws, he really didn’t want to find out that the boy had been left orphaned in a fire, and he really didn’t want to think that his Aunt Marie might have had anything to do with it.

Half an hour later he wished he hadn’t thought to look.

Little over three weeks previously, there had been a fire in a farmhouse a few miles outside Portland, the place had burned to the ground, faulty wiring, and the whole family, mother, father, grandmother, and four children were all said to be dead inside. Only fragments of the bodies were recovered, no ID had been made, but all the family had been in the house that night.

Except, it seemed, for the youngest son, named as Monroe Lassuer, 9 years old, in the article. Somehow he had survived, and had gone unnoticed for three weeks. Living his life as a stray dog it seemed, and saving little girls lives.

Nick looked at the picture of the happy family in the article, they looked so normal. And for all that he was strange and other worldly when his didn’t look quite human, Monroe had seemed just like every other child he had ever seen.

~*~

“Did you do this?” Nick asked, voice low and unhappy, holding the printout he’d made of the article he’d found.

Aunt Marie, still weak and propped up on too many pillows, and hooked up to too many machines, looked all at once the aunt he remembered, and the stranger he didn’t know. She studied the article carefully before at last shaking her head. “No. I had nothing to do with that.”

Nick eyed her warily, he wasn’t sure if he could trust her.

“I assume it’s the Blutbadden child you’ve founds family?” she asked with a tired sigh. Nick nodded. “And I also assume that you didn’t take my advice and kill him?”

Nick shook his head. “No. And I don’t intend to. He’s a little boy for god’s sake!”

She shook her head. “You’ll learn.”

Nick hoped he never would. He was torn now, between staying with his aunt, spending as long with her as possible before she died, and leaving to find out if the so called accident that had taken Monroe’s family away from him had indeed been an accident.

“Go.” Aunt Marie told him. “Go.”

He hesitated, but in the end he stood and he left, with the promise to come back later. Guilt settled in his stomach as he did. But he needed to know. Needed to make sure.

Because it would kill him if it really had been his Aunt Marie who’d killed this family. It would shatter everything good he’d ever had with her if she was the kind of person who could do this. Already those memories were tarnished by how quickly and filled with conviction she had said the words “kill him.”


	4. Chapter 4

Arson investigator Lieutenant Orson flipped through the file he’d dug out of his filing cabinet. “Sad thing.” He said, pausing at a picture of the family, before flicking on to another page. “Near as I can figure the fire started downstairs. The living room went up first, so it could have been anything from a dropped cigarette to a spark from the fire. Most people just leave a fire to die out on its own, but sparks can fly out at any time until it dies off.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of cases like this, but never any so tragic. Smoke inhalation got them before the fire did.” He gave Nick an apologetic look. “Lots of people forget to check their smoke alarms, always think it’ll never happen to them.”

Nick let out a breath, though if it was of frustration or relief he wasn’t sure. “Thanks Orson, I appreciate this.”

Orson quirked a smile at him. “Hey, no problem. It’s always the kids I feel sorry for in cases like this. They shouldn’t have to die for their parents mistakes, you know?”

Nick gave a small, mirthless laugh; flashing back to the way Monroe had begged him not to kill him. “Yeah.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why this case?” Orson asked him, curious.

Nick shook his head. “Just got some information in, thought it was worth checking.”

Orson nodded. “Well, if you need anything else, my doors always open.”

“Thanks again.” Nick said, and left the Arson department to return to his own. He was still trying to work out how he was going to deal with this. He’d need to declare that he’d found Monroe, there was no way around that. But how was he supposed to explain how he had come across him, and why he hadn’t taken him straight to the hospital.

He’d need to tell, but what could he say? How could he ever hope to explain?

~*~

“Hey Nick!”

Nick blinked, surprised to find himself back at his desk, staring blankly at his dark computer screen. The tone of Hank’s voice made it clear this wasn’t the first time he’d called him. He looked across to his partner, who frowned at him.

“Everything ok man?”

Nick wasn’t sure how to even begin answering that.

“Is it your Aunt? She getting worse?” Hank asked.

Nick let out a stuttered sounding laugh, and before he could do anything else Hank was around the desk, hauling him out of his chair and towards the interrogation rooms. “Thanks man.” He said, burying his face into his hands and trying to get a reign on his thoughts.

Hank shrugged. “I know what it’s like. Sometimes things get overwhelming. It happens.” Hank pulled the chair out on the other side of the table. “And with all the stuff that just dropped on your head, I get it.”

There was a long silence before Nick felt he could actually look at Hank.

Hank gave him a smile. “Hey, I know there’s a rule against this sort of thing in the tough guy cop handbook, but you need to talk, I’m all ears.”

Nick gave another laugh, this one thankfully less hysterical sounding. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Hank eyed him. “Now I’m interested. This have something to do with the missing girl?”

Nick leaned back in his chair and sighed. Was he supposed to tell other people? Juliette already knew, inevitable of course, he would have told her anyway. But should he tell Hank? Would Hank even believe him?

“Nick.” Hank said, in that voice he used when he was talking to witnesses, and Nick found everything spilling out. He was horrified and relieved all at once. 

“I’m not crazy.” He said at last, when he was done, into the silence his words had left. “I’m not, and Juliette isn’t either. And I just…”

Hank was frowning, deeply, and there was a concerned look hovering on his face, like he really did think Nick was crazy. “Ok.” He said, slowly. “Ok. Putting aside the whole ‘Monster’ thing, and the fact you think your Aunt is some kind of serial killer. Let’s back up. You found a kid in the park?”

Nick didn’t know if Hank believed him or not, but at the very least there was someone else who knew about Monroe. “Yes. His name’s Monroe.”

“And instead of taking him to a hospital, you took him home?” Hank continued.

“Yes.” It sounded so stupid, hearing it out loud, but what else could they have done. “Look, maybe if you meet him you’ll understand. Hank… Hank I couldn’t make this up if I tried I swear.” He met Hank’s eyes squarely, hoping against hope that he would believe him, or at least, wouldn’t haul him off to the crazy house.

And at home he’d have Juliette as backup, and Monroe, who could maybe, if Juliette agreed it would be alright, turn himself back into a dog for demonstration purposes.   
Hank nodded shortly, and they went to collect their jackets, and as Nick watched Hank’s car trail him to his house he felt his gut sinking with all the ways this could go wrong.

~*~

“Juliette!” Nick called, opening the door.

“Upstairs!” she called back, her voice coming from the bedroom.

Nick ushered Hank inside. “Hank’s with me.” He called up.

There was a sudden scramble, and he could hear Juliette speaking, too low to make out the words, but he could guess what they were, and then Juliette appeared at the top of the stairs. She eyed Hank warily until Nick nodded, she didn’t look any less concerned, but she summoned up a smile for Hank.

“Monroe alright?” Nick asked.

“He’s doing alright, still sore. I fixed up your old pair of shorts for him to wear, and I don’t think you’re going to get your old police academy t-shirt back either.” There was the sound of Monroe’s voice and Juliette smiled a little more genuinely. “It’s the softest one we have apparently. Come on up.”

It made some of the unease settle to hear Juliette had somehow gotten through to Monroe in some way, even if it was by way of his favourite lounging t-shirt. He nodded to Hank and waved him up the stairs. Hank gave him a suspicious look, but went.

Juliette went into the room first, Hank following and Nick close behind. Monroe’s face had changed again, morphed into the beasts, but from Hank and Juliette’s complete lack of reaction Nick could assume only he could see it. Monroe shrunk back into the pillows on the bed, eyes flicking between them all rapidly.

“Monroe, remember what we talked about.” Juliette said softly, and Nick had to reign in the urge to tell her not to touch him. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, and Nick could see the change shiver over him, and suddenly Monroe looked just as human as any other child

Monroe nodded, but still curled up a little.

Hank moved forward then, smiling easily and reassuringly and crouched down beside the bed. “Hi. I’m Hank Griffin, and I’m a police detective.” He introduced himself. “Nick and Juliette asked me to come down to speak with you. Maybe see if we can find out what happened three weeks ago, when the fire happened?”

Nick took a step back and out of the room, thinking that maybe Monroe might relax enough to talk to Hank. At least that way, even if Hank did think he was crazy, they might get some information out of the boy.

Juliette joined him at the door, leaning into his side and sighing. “He said it smelt like you, and maybe if he smelled like you too you wouldn’t want to kill him.” She whispered, voice cracking. “I tried explaining it to him, but it just seemed the easiest way. It’s like how we sometimes get a mother dog to accept another one’s pups, make them smell like family.” She gave a small huffing breath of a laugh. “Which makes sense if he’s a werewolf, or Blutbad, or whatever he is.”

Nick nodded, promising himself he’d do the best he could not to shake that belief for Monroe, and if it helped the boy to not be afraid of him, then Nick was completely fine with it. “I told Hank.” He whispered into her hair.

She looked at him. “Did he believe you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Probably not. But I don’t know how to show him.”

She nodded. “I’ll talk to him, maybe it will help.” And they were quiet, listening to the murmurs in the bedroom, both of them wondering what was going to happen.

“Nick!” Hank called from the room.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping back into the room.

“I think you should hear this.” Hank said, and there was a suspicious look of disbelief on his face. “Ok Monroe, tell Nick how you got that bruise on your back.”

Monroe glanced at Nick, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second. “I wasn’t hunting. Not supposed to hunt people. But I like red, so I followed the little girl who had it. Only he took her. I tried to tell him he wasn’t supposed to hunt people! I swear I did! The Grimm will get you for hunting people! But he didn’t listen and he kicked my back hard.” Monroe’s eyes flickered up again, worried.

Nick reached out, ignoring the flinch that made his stomach twist, to rest his hand on the mop of brown curls on Monroe’s head. “It’s ok.” He said, “We got the little girl back thanks to you.”

Monroe fidgeted. “Did you kill him for being bad?” he asked, and Nick knew he’s had to ask, Monroe had to know what had happened.

“No. I arrested him because he’d done a very bad thing.” He said, meeting that worried, hopeful gaze. “I don’t kill people Monroe. Especially little boys who haven’t done anything wrong.”

Monroe fidgeted again. “I went out of the house that night. To see the owls in the barn. Dad said I wasn’t allowed to go outside at night on my own. That was a bad thing.” He said

Nick wasn’t sure how to answer that. Thankfully Hank chimed in to say. “And did you see anyone else there that night?”

Monroe shook his head. “I didn’t see anyone. But there was a different smell. Not yours,” he hastened to assure Nick, worried that he would somehow break the fragile truce they had between them. “I’m sorry I thought it was you.”

Nick didn’t withdraw his hand, instead he shifted close enough that he could circle his thumb in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “It’s ok, you were scared.” He reassured.

Hank gave Nick another look, laden with things Nick could not hope to guess at. “You smelled someone different at your house?” Hank asked at last. Monroe nodded, and Nick could see the struggle to accept this in Hank. “Do you know if it was a man or a woman?”

“Man. Maybe Wesan? I don’t think it was human.” Monroe told him.

“Wesan?” Hank asked, and Nick was glad it hadn’t been him, though he wanted to know as well, there was also a relief that coursed through him, because it hadn’t been Aunt Marie.

Monroe looked suddenly frightened again, and Nick felt the change take place beneath his fingers, but it was a short one this time and Monroe quickly shook it off. “I’m not supposed to talk about that.” He looked up at Nick, afraid. “I’m sorry, please don’t kill me!”

“Monroe.” Juliette said, coming to the bed, sitting on the edge and taking Monroe’s hand. “You can tell us the truth. No one is going to hurt you, or kill you, no matter what you say. I promise.”

Nick nodded his agreement and saw Hank do the same.

So Monroe explained as much as he could about Wesan, of the different types his parents had told him about, and the little he knew about Grimm’s from his grandmother, his eyes darted constantly to check that Nick wasn’t angry with him.

Finally Juliette had called an end to it and chased Nick and Hank from the room to settle Monroe back to sleep.

Hank sat across from him in the living room, and Nick waited for the heavy silence between them to break. Finally Hank leaned back into his chair and shut his eyes tight for a long moment. “A Grimm?” he asked at last.

“Apparently.” Nick replied.

“And the kid upstairs is a…”

“Blutbad.” Nick supplied.

“Blutbad.” Hank repeated. “And there’s more of these… Wesan out there? All over Portland?”

Nick gave Hank a thin smile. “Seems like.”

Hank nodded, slowly and carefully. Then he suddenly pushed himself to his feet. “Ok. I’m going back to the station. I’ll see what I can do about the kid. Talk to the Captain, get his input. I… Hell Nick what can I even tell him?” he sighed heavily. “I’ll call you ok? Just…”

Nick nodded, and watched Hank leave the house before he pushed himself to his feet and returned upstairs. He stayed by the door, watching Juliette finish checking Monroe’s back before tucking him in under the quilt. Monroe was asleep again not long after.

Juliette gave him a tired smile when she joined him at the doorway. “Hank gone?”

Nick nodded. “Is he ok?” he said, gesturing to the bed.

“He’s ok. Just stiff and sore. He’s not having any real trouble walking, so I don’t think there’s any damage. But I still think a trip to the hospital would do him good. An x-ray, just to make sure.” She sighed lightly.

Nick pulled her into a hug. “I’ll start clearing out the guest bedroom. I can probably get it sorted before bedtime tonight. Hank’s going to call once he’s talked to the Captain, so…”

Juliette nodded. “Yeah, ok.” Then she pulled away. “I’ll go find the sheets for the spare bed.”

~*~

An hour later Nick sat down abruptly on the unmade spare bed, looking at the boxes of stuff he’d meant to move into the attic when they’d first moved in. 

He looked at the corner under the window where he could fit a desk, and at the wall at the end of the bed where he could put in a set of shelves, and he wondered what colour was Monroe’s favourite so he could look into whether paint or wallpaper would be best.

He wasn’t just clearing out the spare room, he realised in surprise and shock, he was planning how to turn it into the perfect room for a little boy.

A little boy he was likely to never see again very soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Nick stirred at the sound of the door opening. He cracked his eyes open and watched Monroe creep into the room. He was moving stiffly and wasn’t nearly as sneaky as he thought he was. Nick held very still and tracked the boy as he tugged the T-shirt he had worn yesterday out of the pile of laundry beside the door and bunch it up to his chest before turning to shuffle back out of the room.

Nick glanced at the clock, which showed him it was 6 in the morning. Too early for anyone to be up and awake. He debated going back to sleep, but decided against it, he’d never get up in time to do anything more than dash to the shower and change before leaving. If there was one thing Nick was not, it was a morning person.

Unfortunately it seemed like their unexpected little guest was most definitely a morning person.

Nick wasn’t sure exactly what Hank had told Captain Renard, but he’d gotten a call later that evening to say that an emergency placement had been arranged until they could locate Monroe’s next of kin. Nick had been surprised that the agreed placement was with them, and was even more surprised when a social worker showed up at the house less than an hour after he’d finished speaking with the Captain.

But somehow he and Juliette had managed to answer the questions they were asked correctly, and apparently Monroe had voiced no objections to staying with them, so it was a done deal, until someone from his family was found who would be happy to take him, or if Nick and Hank could close the newly reopened arson case. Though how they were supposed to do that when their only witness hadn’t actually seen anything Nick wasn’t sure.

Nick pushed himself up and out of bed. He was tempted to open the now closed door to Monroe’s room to see just what he was doing with that t-shirt, but decided, when his hand was just about to touch the door that he didn’t want to ruin whatever ritual the kid needed to feel safe.

He made his way downstairs to make a start on breakfast. Looking over what was in the fridge he couldn’t help but wonder if Blutbaden children ate cereal like other kids, or did they eat only meat? Monroe had been asleep most of the day before and Nock hadn’t thought to ask Juliette. And the book certainly didn’t go into the care and feeding of a temporary fostered Blutbad child.

“Boiled eggs and toasty soldiers?”

Nick had to consciously stop himself from reacting in any way that could be construed as threatening. He hadn’t even heard Monroe come down the stairs.

“Boiled eggs and toasty soldiers?” he asked, reaching for the eggs. He hadn’t had boiled eggs with the toast cut into strips for years, and it had been even longer since he’d referred to them as ‘soldiers’. “Sounds good.” He finished agreeably.

He turned then to look at Monroe. The t-shirt he had taken had been pulled over the top of the policeman pyjama’s Juliette had bought, along with some other things, while Nick had cleaned the spare room. It hung off one shoulder because Monroe was a skinny kid. 

Nick hoped he wasn’t going to need to do this for very long, no matter how sort of cute it looked. “Go wait on the couch, I’ll bring the food in when it’s ready.” He said.  
Monroe hesitated for a moment before shuffling out to the couch. 

“You can turn the TV on of you want.” He called out as an afterthought. There was a silent minute when he wasn’t sure Monroe would do anything, then the TV was on and the volume turned down too low for Nick to pick up what had been chosen.

He stayed in the kitchen until the eggs were ready; he forewent the egg cups, instead scooping the eggs into a mug to save any awkward floundering with them later. All of the toast was cut into strips and piled on one plate.

Monroe was curled up on the couch, eyes trained on the TV. Cartoons no longer made any sense to Nick, and this one, which seemed to involve a giant robot, made less sense than most. He handed Monroe the cup, spoon sticking out the top, and set the place of toast on the middle cushion before taking his own spot on the other side of the couch with his own cup.

“You’re new at this aren’t you?” Monroe’s voice cut across the small sounds from the TV.

“Hmm?” Nick asked, glad he’d just put a spoonful of egg in his mouth, because he was not sure what to make of that question, or even how to start answering.

“Only you didn’t know what a Wesen was.” Monroe continued, studiously dunking a toasty soldier into his eggs. “And Grimm’s are supposed to know that stuff.”

“Yeah.” Nick said with a small laugh. “I guess I am pretty new at this. I saw a Wesen for the first time about a week ago.” He said honestly. “It scared me.”

He caught Monroe’s surprised look from the corner of his eye. “Really?” Monroe asked.

“You can see other Wesen right?” Nick asked, jumping at the chance to somehow prove he was not the bad guy. Monroe nodded in answer. “So it’s normal for you. For me, seeing someone turn into something else like that was like…” he cast about for a suitable comparison. “It was like when you first saw me. When you thought I was going to hurt you because I’m a Grimm.”

Monroe looked at him, brown eyes big and serious. Then Nick was surprised to see a small smile flicker to life on his face, before Monroe ducked his head. “You aren’t a very good Grimm at all.” He said.

Nick had never been more pleased to hear that he was bad at something. He reached over and ruffled the curly hair gently. “Shush you.” He said with a smile.

~*~

Juliette found them sprawled across the couch at half eight, the volume on the TV still too low to really hear, though Monroe claimed he could hear it perfectly when Nick had asked. There had been a definite shift in the air between them, and Nick could see Juliette had noticed it too.

“Hey.” Juliette said, coming up behind them. “Having fun?”

Monroe twisted round to look at her, and Nock saw the slight grimace of ain cross his face when he moved to fast. “Hi Juliette.” 

Juliette stroked her hand over his head. “You ready to go to the hospital?” she asked. They’d agreed with the social worker that a hospital checkout would be the best thing, and Monroe had assured Juliette that he had been to the hospital before.

Monroe didn’t look pleased at the reminder, but nodded.

Juliette smiled. “Well, seeing as you too have already had breakfast, why don’t you go and get ready while I get some for me?” then she gave Nick a kiss before heading to the kitchen.

It took hearing a grand total of one hiss of pain for Nick to stop Monroe from climbing the stairs. “Coming down them is easier huh?” he asked. “Can I carry you up?”

Monroe flushed red with embarrassment, but finally nodded. It was a little more awkward to carry the lanky boy while he was awake. Nick was hyper aware of not touching his back. He dropped Monroe off in his room.

“You don’t have to wear my t-shirt you know.” He said before leaving, hoping he wasn’t about to undo all the progress they had made.

Monroe flushed again. “I…”

Nick hesitated for a moment before going back to him, crouching down until they were eyelevel. “I know why, and I’m not mad about it.” He assured. “I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to do it. Nothing, absolutely nothing you could ever do would make me want to hurt you.”

“What if I attacked someone?” Monroe questioned instantly.

“It would depend on why you attacked them. If you did it just because you could, I would probably have to arrest you. But if you did it because they hurt you first, I would probably have to hurt them myself before arresting them.”

Monroe eyed him suspiciously. “What if I wrecked your house?”

“Like huff and puff and blow it down you mean?” Nick asked with a slight smile and was glad to see Monroe’s face twist up in exasperation. “Well, it wouldn’t be me you’d have to worry about.” He said meaningfully.

Monroe nodded sagely. “What if I broke all the clocks in your house?”

Nick frowned in confusion. “Clocks? Why would you want to break clocks?” he had to ask.

Monroe’s eyes had narrowed into a sudden scowl. “None of them tick.” He said, as if that answered everything. “Clock’s should tick.”

Nick tried for a long while to get his head round that, and failed. All the clocks in the house were brand new, digital clocks, each one synced so they always showed exactly the right time. He shook his head. “Please don’t break the clocks in the house. I’m sure we can find you one that ticks somewhere.”

Monroe scuffed a foot at the carpet. “Granny has… had… lots of clocks. She always said I could have her favourite one, with the special cuckoo, because no one else would appreciate it.” He blinked suddenly, and scrubbed at suddenly wet eyes. “I broke it last Christmas, and she said she would show me how to fix it, and it would be my first real clock.”

Nick’s fingers tightened just a little bit around Monroe’s shoulder, unsure if he should hug him, or say something. Monroe sniffed loudly, hand rubbing hard at his eyes. “Sorry.” He said. “I won’t break your clocks. Promise.”

“I know you won’t.” he said, suddenly thrown back to being twelve years old, and all the promises his parents had made that could never be fulfilled. He remembered the empty feeling inside every time he realised his dad wouldn’t be there to take him fishing again, or his mum wasn’t there to tell him stories at night. But he’d at least had his Aunt Marie. For three weeks, Monroe had had no one.

“It won’t be the same, but how about after the hospital, we find you another clock, and maybe some books about how to fix them up? That way you’ll be able to-“ he was cut off by thin arms winding round his neck, which was, on reflection, a good thing, because he had no idea how he was going to finish what he had intended to say.

It wasn’t a long hug, and Monroe didn’t cry again, but Nick felt like he’d done something right. When Monroe pulled back he smiled at him. “Come on, we’d better get ready, you know what doctors are like.”

“Vampires.” Monroe said instantly.

Nick did a double take. “Seriously?”

Monroe kept a straight face for all of five seconds before he grinned delightedly. “You’re a rubbish Grimm!” he told him.

Nick got to his feet, rolling his eyes. “Get dressed.” And left to get himself ready.

He was glad to see Monroe was not wearing his t-shirt either over or under the clothes he had pulled on, when he emerged for his room. And he thought that maybe things would start to get better now.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick had left Juliette and Monroe waiting to be moved to the x-rays to go and visit with his Aunt Marie, feeling guilty by how much he had ignored her. He felt bad that he had accused her of the Murder of Monroe’s family; especially know that he knew it couldn’t have been her. But there was still a part of him that couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she had done something similar before? Was there some little boy out there somewhere who had not been as lucky as Monroe?

He stopped briefly to talk with the doctors, who told him they’d had to up her pain medication, and she was on oxygen now. He had to stop at the door to the room when he saw her, because there was nothing strong looking about her now. She was out cold, the last round of drugs finally enough to let her sleep. She was a fine as she could be, given the circumstances.

He sat beside her bed and wondered if it was better, or worse that she wasn’t awake to see him struggle through all these new feelings about her. He wanted nothing more than to remember her as the stern faced librarian, whose eyes twinkled only for him in their own private joke. He wanted to remember her as the woman who had held him when the grief at losing his parents got to be too much. He needed to remember her as all of the good things, needed to believe in her like he used to.

But he couldn’t.

There was just too much going on, too much he didn’t understand… couldn’t understand. 

“Aunt Marie I…” he began, before hanging his head. What could he say to her?

He wasn’t aware of the time passing until there was a hand ghosting over his shoulder and he startled.

“Hey, everything ok?” Juliette asked.

Nick looked again at his aunt and sighed. “I… yeah…” he looked up at Juliette. “She’s dying, there’s not a lot anyone can do.”

Juliette gave him an understanding smile. It was then that Nick noticed Monroe, who had tucked himself behind Juliette and was staring wide eyed at Aunt Marie, his nose twitching slightly. Juliette shrugged. “The doctor said he was fine and gave us some new medicine to put on his back. I told him you were visiting Aunt Marie and he wanted to see what a real Grimm looked like.” There was a hint of a smile around her lips when she said that.

Nick frowned. “How did you know she was a Grimm?” he asked.

Monroe’s gaze slid across to him. “There can only be one. Like in highlander. Only Grimm’s don’t go cutting off each other’s heads.” And then he looked back at Aunt Marie, and with what must have seemed like sneaky steps, he left the safety of Juliette and inched towards the bed. 

“I don’t think I get it?” Nick made it a question, wondering at how Monroe, despite being only 9 years old, knew more than he did about Grimm’s.

Monroe didn’t stop on his advance to the bed, moving around it cautiously so he could see Aunt Marie more closely. “Granny told me that there are lots of Grimm’s in the world, hundreds and thousands even. But most of them don’t know they are, not until the Grimm before them dies. Actually, it’s more like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” He paused suddenly and looked at Nick and Juliette. “My sisters made me watch it!” he pointed out, there was a look of sudden sadness on his face when he remembered that his sisters were dead, but he shook it off quickly enough that neither adult wanted to draw attention to it.

Juliette nodded in such a way that Nick knew she knew exactly what Monroe meant, which didn’t help him any, as he had never watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “I’ll explain it later.” She promised him.

Nick couldn’t help tensing a little as Monroe got closer to Marie; though what exactly he expected to happen he wasn’t sure.

There was an odd moment when Monroe reached the top of the bed and was mere inches from Aunt Marie, staring at her with great interest. “A Grimm killed my Great-grandfather you know.” He continued suddenly, unexpectedly. “Stuck his head on a pike outside his house. Dad said that’s why we had to be careful, because Grimm’s would kill us just for being us.” He didn’t look away from his close study of Marie. “Granny said it was because Great-grandfather had been stupid. She said Grimm’s only killed you if you did stupid things, like hunted people.” 

Nick and Juliette exchanged a worried look, but before either of them could say anything, Monroe’s nose wrinkled suddenly and his attention was suddenly diverted to something outside the room. 

“Monroe?” Nick asked suddenly, getting out of his chair.

“Smells like rotting.” Monroe said, fisting his hand against his nose. He shuffled across to the door and looked out, suddenly pointing. “There.”

Nick moved towards the door, frowning. He looked when Monroe was pointing, but all he saw was a woman in a white coat walking quickly down the hall, blonde hair swinging down her back, for a split second it looked like the blonde turned a dirty white colour, like that woman’s had from days ago. “What was it?” he asked, because it could have been a trick of the light.

Monroe shrugged. “Don’t know. Smelt bad.” And he rubbed at his nose again before turning back and padded right back to the bed.

Whatever fear Monroe had of Grimm’s seemed completely absent suddenly.

“I think once you stopped being scary to him, Grimm’s became interesting.” Juliette said, joining him at the door.

“Is that normal?” Nick asked her, at a loss. 

Juliette shrugged. “I did some research last night, on trauma. Just in case. Kid’s get over things fast, much faster than adults. Once something isn’t scary anymore, it’s almost like it never was. I guess it’s like being scared of the monster under the bed as a kid, until you realise it isn’t a monster at all.” She gave him a smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” He repeated. “Anyway. Ii think I remember promising someone a clock that ticks after we were finished at the hospital.”

Monroe turned to him, bright eyed. “Really?” he asked. “You meant it?”

Juliette smiled; Nick had told her all about his conversation with Monroe about the clocks. “Well, we can’t have you taking out all the digital clocks in the house can we?” she asked.

Monroe had the grace to blush slightly, but was easily ushered out of the room, giving Nick a moment to say goodbye to Aunt Marie. He hoped she was awake the next time he stopped by.

~*~

“Adalind. Is it done?”

Adalind Schade leaned against the wall in the stairwell, brushing imagined lint from his skirt. “Your little pet Grimm was there, along with his girlfriend and a kid.” She said into the phone. “I didn’t want to take the risk with so many witnesses.”

“Hmm.” Came the smooth voice down the line to her, tingling her ear. “The child?”

“Wesen.” Adalind said, “Blutbad.” It had been easy to tell, Blutbad could pick up the scent of other Wesen much easier than any other species, and the boy had known she was there before she'd even reached the room.

“I thought so.”

“So do you want me to try again?” she asked.

There was a slight pause over the line. “No, leave things as they are for the moment. We might get what we need without killing Marie Kessler prematurely.” There was the sound of shifting papers, and an indistinct mumble of voices somewhere in the background. “I’ll let you know if the plans change.”

Adalind nodded. “I’ll be waiting.” She said, and ended the call. She brushed her skirt down again before beginning her descent down to the car park, leaving the borrowed doctors coat hanging across the railing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear up any confusion
> 
> 1\. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer reference was made because of Monroe's comments in Episode 1 of the show, when he asked if someone in Nick's family had just died, which implies that the Grimm 'Gift' is passed on with the death (or injury/sickness that will result in death). to the next person in the family line who is able to do the job. This does not mean that there is only one Grimm in exsistance, as canon does state there are different Grimm lines. But, I am taking the view that as the Grimm are the bogeymen of the Wesen world, and while Wesen know something about them, but not everything, it would be an easy assumption for the Grimm to take on such mythical proportions as "There is only One!". Which is the view Monroe in my story has been exposed to, hence the reference he made in the last chapter.
> 
> 2\. The History of the Blutbaden Monroe expresses in this chapter is completely made up, as are his views on the other Wesen. Again, these are things that he has been told by his family, which are the only reality he knows up to this point. These views and his fathers personality are based on how I saw his fathers character in the episode he was on in Season 3.
> 
> 3\. Please continue to enjoy this story, and thanks all those who have reviewed, you've all made me very happy!

Nick flicked through the book on Blutbaden, his eyes shifting to where Monroe was curled back up on the couch. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping to find, but he had a sinking feeling that if he’d read these books before he’d caught the case on the college students murder, or if Aunt Marie had told him about any of this earlier, he didn’t think he would have been so inclined to have just arrested that mailman.

The book detailed in graphic phrase, exactly what a Blutbad was, from the translation of the name (Bloodbath), through all of the terrible things they were supposed to have done. More than once there was a reference to an attack made on one of his ancestors, brutal and bloody, the most recent being his grandfather, who had died of his wounds after dispatching a Blutbad.

He couldn’t help but wonder how much of the book was true.

He could trace the history of hatred through the book, and it made him ill to think that if he’d seen this earlier, if he’d known before now, would he have been so willing to take a Blutbad into his home, to leave him alone with Juliette. Would he have done what Aunt Marie had told him to? Would he have killed a little boy just to stop him from turning into the monster detailed in this book?

He didn’t want to think he was capable of it, but he couldn’t say for certain if that was true, and that worried him. It would be so easy to blame everything bad on something else, on some Wesen. To look at a murder and think to himself “A Wesen did this”, to assume guilt where there was none. Was that what his ancestors had done? Had they witnessed one Blutbad do something terrible and not bothered to look past that individual? Had they just assumed that all Blutbad were killers?

Had there been instances where they had witnessed something, but instead of finding out why it was happening, had just killed the Wesen responsible? In fairy tales there was never a reason for why the bad guy did what he did. But was that just because no one had bothered to find out.

He found himself flicking back to a page where a Blutbad had been killed for a series of animal mutilations, a young Blutbad, which meant he had probably not been much older than Monroe, no indication of a pack. One of his ancestors had killed him, citing that it had been lucky they’d gotten him before he’d moved onto humans. His eyes were drawn to the rough sketch, and caught the hints of snow in the picture.

Had his ancestor ever stopped to wonder if maybe the Blutbad was hungry and not able to get food any other way? Had the thought that there was something more going on ever crossed his mind?

Nick might be wrong of course; there was every possibility that the Blutbad was a terrible as was written and only a step away from killing humans. But the doubt was there, and Nick couldn’t shake it. He didn’t want to shake it, because he didn’t want to look at Monroe or any other Wesen and just presume guilt. He couldn’t let himself.

“Hungry?” he asked Monroe, deliberately closing the book and setting it aside.

Monroe looked up from the book he’d been given in the in the fourth shop they went to looking for the “perfect ticking clock”, which turned out to be a rather small little mantelpiece clock, which was sitting, pride of place on the bedside table in Monroe’s room. They’d gotten a discount on the clock when the store owner had recognised Monroe from the numerous times he had come in with his grandmother.

They’d steered carefully around the topic of the fire and the death of Monroe’s family, and the man had unearthed an old heavy book on clocks, which included the care, cleaning and mending of them, and added it in for free, with the smile of a man who would miss the conversation of a woman he clearly knew very well.

“Yes please.” Monroe answered.

Nick gave himself a shake; he’d need to stop drifting off into his own thoughts so much. He was due back at work first thing in the morning to start looking into the case files on Monroe’s family, never mind all the other cases he and Hank had on their desks. “Anything in particular you want?”

Monroe shook his head, so Nick scrounged together enough for ham sandwiches. He sent Juliette a text to pick up some more groceries. She had gone into work to let them know she needed some more days off, just until they’d either managed to get in touch with someone else from Monroe’s family, or something more permanent could be arranged. They hadn’t talked about it, but Nick had the feeling that Juliette maybe wanted that permanent to be with them. Which was insane, because they’d never talked about kids.

The ring he’d gotten her was still in his sock drawer, waiting for the perfect time to ask her. He’d had the whole thing mapped out before Aunt Marie had arrived, but in a way it felt almost right that things had happened the way they had. Already Monroe had become a part of his life in a way he just couldn’t explain. He wondered if that was supposed to happen, is that how things with children worked? Did you just get attached? And once you were, was there any way to get unattached?

If not, it was going to make things difficult. Especially if he and Hank found someone from Monroe’s family willing to take him in.

Suddenly a thought struck him, and he quickly fished two bags of chips from the cupboard to go with the sandwiches, collected the plates and went back into the living room. “Monroe.” He said voice serious.

Monroe looked at him, suddenly nervous looking, and Nick did his best to not look intimidating, handed him his food and retook his seat on the chair.

“Monroe, I need to ask you some questions about the fire.” Nick said gently. “Is that ok?”

Monroe poked at his sandwich. “I guess.” He said.

“You said you smelled someone different?” Monroe nodded. “And you said it might have been a Wesen?” Monroe nodded again. “Do you know what sort of Wesen? Can you describe it? Have you ever smelt anything like it before?”

Monroe’s face scrunched up in thought, then he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I ever met a Wesen with that smell before.” He said. “I haven’t met very many, dad always said Blutbad shouldn’t mix with other Wesen.”

“Why?” Nick couldn’t help but ask, curious, and maybe he might still get the answers he was looking for.

“Because Blutbad get blamed for everything!” Monroe told him. He looked at Nick then, and set his plate aside so he could lean forward, and Nick had a sudden vision of him as an adult, a teacher or something, ready to impart some all-important knowledge. “A long time ago, back in Germany, maybe hundreds of years ago, when the Grimm’s first appeared, there were a lot of Blutbaden, hundreds of them, more than all the other Wesen combined. Blutbad means Bloodbath, did you know that?”

Nick nodded, not willing to interrupt Monroe’s history lesson.

Monroe nodded in return. “They got called that because they were the most fierce of all fighters and the kings and queens they fought for always sent them into the hardest battles. Blutbaden were the best, and they never lost, every battlefield they left was a Bloodbath. Not all Blutbaden were like that, lot’s weren’t, but when some of the Blutbaden who came back from the wars they started doing bad things. Tthings that made the Grimm come.

“But it wasn’t always a Blutbad who did bad things though, sometimes it was another Wesen, but everyone knew about Blutbaden, everyone knew that if you went into a Blutbaden’s territory without proper warning you’d get attacked.” Monroe told him seriously, and Nick made a note of that in the back of his mind. “So when the Grimm came looking for the Wesen who did something bad, other Wesen would blame the Blutbaden who lived close by, because they knew the Grimm wouldn’t know the right way to enter the territory, so the Grimm would get attacked.

“So sometimes the Grimm would be killed, and the other Wesen didn’t need to worry about being found out. And sometimes the Grimm killed the Blutbad, and the other Wesen was still safe, because the Grimm always took being attacked as proof the Blutbad was guilty.” Monroe was still looking at him very seriously, like he was willing Nick to understand something. “Dad always said it was better to stay away from other Wesen as much as possible, because if the other Wesen didn’t know about us, then they couldn’t blame us if something bad happened, and the Grimm would have no excuse to come for us. He said that was what happened to Great-grandfather.”

“Oh.” Nick said faintly, eyes drifting to the book beside him, and all the words within going back hundreds of years, filled most likely with cases just like this.

“Granny said things were different now though. That other Wesen couldn’t go blaming us like they used to, and that we couldn’t go blaming other Wesen if something happened to us.” Monroe shrugged, and picked the plate back up and started eating at last.

“Are there more Blutbaden in Portland?” Nick asked.

Monroe gave him a suspicious look, before apparently remembering that Nick was not a ‘proper Grimm’, and then he nodded. “Some.” He said.

“Why didn’t you go to them? After the fire. Why did you stay by yourself instead of finding someone who could help you?” Nick pressed.

Monroe looked momentarily stunned; as if this was the first time he had actually considered the possibility. “I…” Monroe’s face suddenly closed off, upset creeping into his expression. “I… I didn’t…”

Nick set his own plate aside and moved over beside Monroe, there was moment of awkward fumbling before he managed to tug him into his side in a half hug. “I’m not saying…” he began, only to stop when he realised he didn’t know how to finish. “It’s just; we need to know if you have any family. And you were by yourself Monroe, for three weeks. We need to know why.”

Monroe fumbled with his plate. “I just… I was scared. I went outside after Dad told me not to, and then the fire came. And I thought I… I thought it was because I… And I didn’t want…”

Nick just pulled him in closer when the crying started; thinking back over everything Monroe had told him. Bart Lasseur seemed like a paranoid man, and he had clearly done his best to instil the same in his children. Nick could understand, in part, what with everything he’d been told, if he had truly believed the threats he told his son about to be real and waiting. Some of that had stuck with Monroe, despite the clearly more level headed influence of his grandmother, and he’d done exactly what his father had expected him to do. 

Hide and keep himself safe in the only way he knew how.

“Do you have any family in Portland, or anywhere else?” Nick asked gently when the crying faded out.

Monroe was quiet for a long while and Nick was almost sure he wouldn’t be getting an answer. “Uncle Rolf. Maybe Aunt Angelina? But I don’t know if they live here. Uncle Hap lives somewhere close. He used to come and visit sometimes. Mum always said she wouldn’t trust him to look after us though, because he could hardly take care of himself.”

Nick nodded. “Ok.” He said. “Want to watch some TV?” 

Monroe nodded, but made no move to get the remote himself, instead he stayed pressed against Nick’s side, so Nick snagged the remote and found something bright and cheery, turning the volume right down when Monroe flinched a little at the noise.

~*~

When Monroe gave into exhaustion not long after Nick dug his phone out of his pocket and called Hank. “Hey, I need you to look up some people.” He said.

“Yeah?” Hank asked, and Nick could hear him shifting for paper on his desk.

“Rolf, Hap and Angelina Lasseur. Monroe says they’re his uncles and aunt. Maybe you can find them.” Nick told him.

Hank was quiet for a long minute. “Are they…?”

“Blutbad? Yeah, I think so.” Nick replied.

“Huh.” He heard Hank’s chair creak. “Thing’s going ok with the kid? The Captain said he was going to arrange an emergency placement with you. I told him it was maybe better than putting him with someone else. I told him that it was in case whoever did it heard there was a witness, but… well, you know…”

“Yeah.” Nick said. “I know.” And he did, because it was the same reason he’d not wanted to take Monroe to the hospital at first. He would need to have another proper talk with Hank, because he really didn’t want him to start looking at Monroe’s family like they were monsters. That wouldn’t go down well.

“You back in tomorrow?” Hank asked him.

“Yeah. We can go tracing down leads then.” There was another moment of silence before they said their goodbyes.

Nick wondered, after he’d put the phone aside, and found himself absently stroking Monroe’s hair, if these Uncles and Aunt would be as paranoid as Monroe’s father had been. He didn’t hold out much hope though, he just hoped they wouldn’t decide to eliminate the potential Grimm threat on first meeting.

Was it bad, he asked Juliette later that night, that he sort of hoped they didn’t want Monroe?

She laughed at him. “That depends on why you want that to happen.”

He dreamed that night of a snowy field, and Monroe being hunted for something he hadn’t done. And when he woke, unease had settled hard into his stomach and he couldn’t shake it.


	8. Chapter 8

Nick had been at his desk all of ten minutes when Officer Wu approached, a file in his hands. “Hey Wu, what have you got for me?” he asked. He’d barely gotten his computer booted up, so he was hoping this was good news.

“Hank gave me some names to run yesterday.” Wu told him, with a look that stated clearly that it had taken him a very long time to unearth this information. “I didn’t find out much, there’s no information on any database I can find for any of them. But I did find this.” Wu held up the file.

Nick reached for it, confused when Wu held it slightly out of his reach. “It’s not good news.” He said before he passed the file into Nick’s waiting hand.

Nick frowned when he saw that this was an Arson Investigation file. He flipped to the first page and his frown only got deeper.

Rolf Lasseur, dead.

He flipped through the rest of the pages and all the technical jargon that detailed how the explosion had occurred. The House had been blown to pieces. Rolf Lasseur hadn’t known what had hit him.

“What have you got?” Hank asked him, breaking his concentration. Nick handed him the file. “Whew! Another one? It only happened four days ago.” He looked at Nick. “What are you thinking?”

Nick sighed. “I’m thinking we need to go talk to the Arson team again. Two brothers killed three weeks apart?”

“You think it’s aimed at the brothers?” Hank asked.

“Well, I don’t think whoever did it was aiming for the wife and kids. God.” Nick leaned back in his chair, a haunted look in his face. “How the hell am I supposed to tell Monroe his Uncle’s dead as well?” he asked.

“It happened before you found him,” Hank pointed out, though Nick wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “So at least we know the motive wasn’t trying to kill the witness to the first one. And with what we have so far, we can have the case reopened for investigation; maybe with some fresh eyes we can find something.”

“Yeah.” Nick sighed again. “Come on, let’s talk to Orson.”

~*~

“Ok, here we go. There was a nicked propane line right next to a frayed extension cord. There was a severe rodent infestation.” Orson brought the pictures taken at the scene up on the computer screen for them to see. He turned to them, hands motioning to the screen as he explained. “Now these rodents, what they like to do is sharpen their teeth on power cords. So what we have is gas, plus spark, equals boom.”

Nick nodded, but he wasn’t happy with the explanation, no matter how much it made sense. “Is it possible that someone corroded the valve and frayed the cord?” he asked.

Orson considered this for a moment. “I get it, there’s a family relation there. But in my experience an Arsonists doesn’t change how they start fires. If it was a deliberately set fire that killed the first family, there’s no reason whoever set it would change tactics to an explosion.”

“But is it possible?” Hank asked.

Orson looked back at the files and the pictures and shrugged. “Anything’s possible I suppose. But I wasn’t able to find anything in either situation that points to there being any foul play. I can’t base my conclusions on the fact that they were related, despite the tragedy there.”

Nick frowned, still unhappy, but nodded.

“I heard you had some new information on the Lasseur family fire.” Orson pressed gently. “Anything I can help with? If there’s something I missed I’d like to get it set straight.”

“We have a witness, say’s they saw someone at the house the night of the fire.” Hank said. “We’re just looking into it to be sure.”

Orson nodded thoughtfully. “Sure thing let me know if I can help out.”

“Sure.” Nick said, and turned at left the room.

Hank followed him, but waited until they were back at their desk before asking him. “What’s the matter? You’ve got that look that says you don’t like something.”

“I don’t like this whole case. Orson’s right, an arsonist doesn’t change his method of starting fires. It’s all in the process and the result, like someone with OCD. This is a revenge thing. It’s got to be.” Which made the uneasiness on Nick’s gut intensify. “But if what Monroe told me is true, his family avoided spending time with others. His father was paranoid they’d be blamed for something they hadn’t done.”

Hank leaned in, voice going low. “But is it a revenge thing against the family… or because they’re Blutbad’s?”

“Blutbaden.” Nick corrected automatically. “I don’t know. But I think we need to try and find Hap and Angelina, if it’s a family thing they’ll be next on the list. If it’s because they’re Blutbaden, I don’t know how we’re going to monitor that.”

“It could be a money thing. Next in line for the insurance money maybe? I’ll contact the insurance company. Hopefully they’ll have some information on who will get the money, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Hank said

Nick nodded, then got back to his feet. “I need to see Aunt Marie. Maybe she can tell me something if she’s awake.”

Hank waved him off, already on the phone.

~*~

There were too many questions Nick had for his Aunt Marie, and not nearly enough time to ask her all of them. He could only hope that she could help him with this… that she would help him with this. Because he didn’t know where else to turn. Where could he even begin looking for a Wesen with a grudge against the Blutbaden?

She was awake when he arrived, and watched him with eyes that knew too much, like she already knew why he was there. “Ask then.” She said, motioning him towards the bedside seat.

He took it, and as he did he took the plunge, and told her about the case.

She was silent all through his explanations, and when he was done she sighed. “I’m not going to be able talk you out of looking out for the Blutbad am I?” she asked him. He shook his head resolutely, but said nothing, because he didn’t want to fight over this. She sighed. "Well, you can rule out any sort of in-family vengeance. Blutbaden don't kill pack, and family is the closest pack they have. And you had better think of a way to stop them attacking you when they find out you have one of theirs. Children are important to them."

Nick nodded. "I had a feeling, from what Monroe said." he admitted. "Do you know of any Wesen who might have something against them?" he was clutching at straws, he knew that, but he had to ask.

Aunt Marie gave a short, stuttered sounding laugh. "They're called the 'Bloodbath' for a reason Nick. They caused a lot of problems in the past and more than one Wesen holds a grudge. But for one to set their fear aside to go after them? Unheard of." Nicks confusion must have showed, because she explained. "Blutbaden are the most vicious of all Wesen, Nick. They might seem normal; innocent even as children, but when they hit puberty they go through a terrible change. That's when they get their first taste of real blood, and once they have that there is no going back." She gave him a searching look. "Some packs look on it as an honour. When the Bloodlust comes they take the teen to the nearest village, sometimes human, sometimes Wesen, and let them loose. A lot of anger builds up from that Nick."

Nick shut his eyes tight. "Just because some of them are like that... it doesn't mean they all are. You said it yourself, ‘some packs’, that doesn’t mean all of them. How many Blutbaden are out there, who haven’t done anything wrong?"

"It's always there, always lurking in the background. No Blutbad is innocent forever." Marie told him.

Nick looked at her, hating her conviction. How could she know? How could anyone say for sure? No one had given them the chance. Silence fell then, because he couldn't think of a way to say that without letting all of his anger at the injustice out. "Why did you never tell me?" he asked instead, because he wanted to know.

Aunt Marie looked away then. "I didn't know how." she told him honestly. "I didn't know how to explain it without making you hate the Wesen world entirely."

It took him a long moment before he got it. "My parents... the car accident? It was Wesen?"

Marie nodded. "If I had told you then... Not all Wesen are bad Nick, it took me a long time after my father’s death to realise that. And when your parents died I... It took me longer again to stop feeling that they were all to blame. I'm glad I never instilled that hatred into you, because you wouldn't have gotten over it, and no one should live like that."

Nick didn't mention the hypocrisy of it. That it was perfectly ok to hate and kill a Blutbad, to assume their guilt without proof, but all other Wesen he had to treat them like any other person. He could accept it as a step in the right direction, away from the assumed guilt of all that he had seen displayed in the books he had leafed through. But he couldn't reconcile Monroe with the monsters his aunt talked about, and he wasn’t going to let himself.

"I need to get back to work." He said, getting up. "I'll drop in tonight, ok?"

She nodded. "Ok.”

He nodded, and left.

~*~

Marie watched Nick leave. She didn't regret how she had raised him, that she had not told him about his heritage. She had seen first-hand how that had affected her sister. How their father’s death, and the abrupt way their ability to see the Wesen had come online, had torn Kelly up inside. Kelly had never been able to put aside her hatred for all Wesen, to the point where Marie had cut contact with her for years for reasons best left to the past now. 

She knew Nick thought she was being hypocritical, and she could understand why. But in all of her dealings with Wesen there were two kinds that could not be trusted or reasoned with, the Reapers, contract killers trained to destroy the Grimm, They were paid to do a job, and they did it, there was no way to reason with that. And the Blutbad, whose own instincts would not allow them to conform to the world as it changed. They were still stuck in a world of war and death, where they were the top of the food chain.

She wasn't sure how to make that clear to Nick. Maybe she never would.

She worried that it was going to get him killed.

She called for a nurse, and asked to use the phone. There was one more thing she could do, though she didn't know if it would have any impact. But she had to try.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be unable to update this weekend, so I'm going to try and get an extra long chunk up when I post tomorrow to make up for it.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Juliette had spent her morning divided between checking on Monroe, and doing her own research. She’d picked up the book on Blutbaden Nick had carelessly left in the living room, rolling her eyes in exasperation at how entirely useless men could be sometimes. She was glad she had managed to lift it before Monroe decided to take a look. Some of the things written and drawn inside were enough to induce nightmares in her; she didn’t want to think about what it would likely do to Monroe.

Monroe had wilted when Nick had gone to work, any and all energy he seemed to have just dissipated completely. Juliette had seen this sort of thing before, in dogs, and while she felt guilty in drawing comparisons between a household pet and Monroe, she couldn’t deny the similarities. Monroe was doing his best to appear in good health around Nick, to hide any weakness he could. He didn’t always succeed, but he was doing a good enough job convincing Nick that he was generally ok.

Juliette knew better, because she wasn’t a threat to Monroe, so he dropped his guard around her, she was the one who saw the grimaces of pain when he moved too fast. The bruising was deep, Monroe had said he was kicked, but whoever, or whatever had kicked him, had done so with the intention to wound. The bruising pulled at Monroe’s back constantly, and even the medication they’d been given didn’t relieve all of the pain he was in.

Monroe was currently sprawled on the couch on his stomach, back uncovered while the gel the doctor had given them worked its magic on his back, watching the newly discovered cartoon station on cable.

Juliette kept half an eye on him from the computer desk tucked away in the corner. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but any information was good information for now.

She was still having problems reconciling what she had seen, what Monroe had told her, and what she knew. Everything that had happened seemed so outlandish that if she hadn’t seen it herself she wouldn’t have believed it. It was hard even know looking at Monroe to remember that he had been a dog… or wolf on the night they had found him. He had been a wolf, and there was no way to deny that. He had confirmed it for her when she’d asked.

“We can Woge in three ways,” he had explained patiently, leaning forward eagerly over his breakfast, waving his fork around. It was endearing to see. “The first way is when we get all sad, or upset, only other Wesen can see, and Grimm. The second way is if we’re angry, or we want someone to see; that’s were all the stories come from, about werewolves, and all the fairy tales about talking animals and stuff.” He had looked at her, waiting for her to nod her understanding. “The third way is when we do a full Woge, straight into the animal itself. It’s easy for children to do, because it’s the best way to hide and escape if something happens…” 

He paused for a moment then, and Juliette wasn’t sure if she should say anything, all her research told her to wait for him to talk about the loss of his family and not to push, so she said nothing and waited. 

He continued after another minute “It’s harder for an adult, because you stay the same size… and sometimes the animal you’re supposed to be isn’t supposed to be so big, so people spot you easier. Full Woge’s should only be done when you’re sure no one is going to see you, or think there’ anything strange.”

Juliette had offered him a smiled. “How do you know so much?” she asked, curious, because he sounded like a little professor sometimes.

“Granny is a teacher… or was a teacher, before she came over to America from Germany She told me lots of things, even though Mum said she shouldn’t. Mum is a teacher too, but she taught advanced classes on History. Marlon got to learn those classes, so did Margaruite and Melissa. I was going to start when I was twelve.” He paused again, and frowned at his plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.” He told her.

Juliette didn’t argue, instead setting Monroe up on the couch with the TV.

Which brought her to her research, because she couldn’t deny the truth of it, and wasn’t even going to try. Any searches she had made on Blutbaden, or Grimm’s or anything associated with the world were met with dead ends, translations, and mentions of the Grim Reaper or the Brothers Grimm. So her attention had turned to Fairy tales.

She wondered if it had been the Brothers Grimm that had started the Grimm line, or if they had been just one of many descendants who had made a name for themselves. Whatever it was, the Fairy tales they wrote had been written as a warning to those who could not see what they could. She could see that in them when she skimmed over them. Now that she knew what to look for.

Blutbad, or the Big Bad Wolf, as they were known, were the most common enemies in the tales. Juliette’s eyes slid across to Monroe. She didn’t know what Nick saw, or what his Aunt Marie had seen, but there was nothing about Monroe that seemed either ‘Bad’ or all the ‘Big’. 

She printed what she found, not sure if it would be useful, but at the very least she could maybe talk them over with Monroe and Nick, find out what parts were true and what were made up. It couldn’t hurt.

The phone rang midway through the printer spitting out ‘The Three Little Pigs’ and Juliette left the computer to pick up the house phone. “Hello?”

There was an odd sound of machines that it took Juliette a moment to recognise, and she realised who was calling a split second before they spoke. “Juliette.”

“Aunt Marie? Is everything ok?” Juliette was surprised; a call from the hospital was completely unexpected. “Has something happened? Do I need to call Nick?” She glanced over to see Monroe had shifted himself back into a sitting position and was watching her with interest.

“Everything’s fine dear. But Ii need to speak with you.”

Juliette swallowed nervously, not sure she liked where this was going. “Is this about the Grimm thing?” she asked, because she wasn’t about to mention the killing Monroe thing while he was sitting listening.

Aunt Marie gave a small laugh. “So you know. I shouldn’t be surprised. Come to the hospital, please, and bring the Blutbad with you.”

Monroe looked at her with wide eyes and pointed to himself, he looked all kinds of terrified and excited all at once. “Aunt Marie I don’t think…” Juliette began, not liking this at all.

Aunt Marie sighed, and there was a sad, defeated sound there. “Juliette, please. I just need to talk.”

Juliette bit her lip, eyeing Monroe, who still looked an insane cross of ecstatic and downright terrified. “Ok, ok, give me an hour.”

“Thank you.” And Aunt Marie hung up.

Juliette put down the phone, and her hand went straight for her cell, and she was calling Nick and explaining as quickly as she could. When she was done Nick was quiet for a while, and she could practically hear his thoughts gather.

“If anything happens, anything at all, get Monroe out and call me. I’ll deal with it.” He said at last, and Juliette knew how much it cost him to voice his suspicions of his Aunts motives even indirectly.

She agreed and hung up, looking at Monroe with a smile that felt forced. “Ready for another trip to the hospital?” she asked.

Monroe looked frozen, completely dumbstruck, but before she could get worried his whole body did a twitch and he was nodding, reaching for his t-shirt.

~*~

Marie wasn’t a fool. She knew Juliette would call Nick, and she knew Nick would be worried about her sudden request to see the Blutbad. But she wasn’t about to try and do anything while she was in the hospital. Besides, she needed to know what it was that had appealed to her nephew, because she had too little time left to waste it fighting with Nick, when there was still so much he needed to know.

She saw them arrive and step off the elevator. She was glad, in a way that Juliette knew, and that she had made the decision to accept the truth. Not many people could, and it was often safer for those who could not see, to stay out of the world of Wesen and Grimm’s. But it was good that she knew, because at least Nick wouldn’t be completely alone. Though she had been serious when she'd told him how much danger she would be in.

The Blutbad, when she saw him, surprised her, he Woged when he first saw her, but he quickly shook it off, and despite his eyes staying just slightly tinged red, there was a lot of something other than fear in them. It was not an expression she was used to seeing on the face of any Wesen.

There was a tense moment where all of her instincts screamed at her to leap from the bed and kill him, because she had seen first-hand what his kind could do, and she was sure his instincts screamed just the same. Blutbad had never really learned the concept of running away. But no one moved, even Juliette stayed carefully still, as if afraid to break whatever moment they had settled into.

Then the Blutbad took a step forward and another and said, with all the careless curiosity of a young child. “How many heads have you cut off?”

And the moment was broken in a way Marie had never expected.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it is so hard to write an AU episode.   
> Keeping in mind that Marie is not in danger of being kiled by Adalind, and Monroe is a kid and that Hank and Juliette already know... well, let's just say it was difficult. I really didn't want to rehash every scene from the episode, because a lot of it stayed exactly the same.  
> But I managed it, and as promised, it's a long chapter to keep you all entertained for the weekend as I may not be able to update for a few days (I will try, but life is life).

Nick eyed his phone like he expected it to ring at any moment, he was waiting for a call involving screaming and crying and murder, and he couldn’t believe he had told Juliette to take Monroe to visit his Aunt without him being there. There was no way to tell how a meeting like that could go, and it was nerve wracking waiting for a call.

He’d told Hank what was going on, enough at least to get a smirk every time he looked at him. “She’s hardly going to leap out of her sick bed and kill the kid in front of witnesses.” Hank had told him, joking in that way people only ever could when they didn’t realise how serious a situation was. But Nick didn’t call him on it, couldn’t find the right words to explain why he felt so anxious about this meeting.

He was startled out of his nervous phone watching by a patrolman approaching the desk. “Had a DUI out on Highway 2 a couple of hours ago,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder towards his desk. “Drivers got some crazy story about her boyfriend being attacked. Names Gilda Darner.” He turned, and Nick shared a look with Hank and they both wheeled out enough to see the woman without obstruction.

“What do you think?” Hank asked, as the Patrolman returned to the desk.

Nick looked at the woman, and let himself be taken in by what passed as their normal routine. “Grown up way to fast, single parent, if she has any. Takes way too many chances and looks for excitement in all the wrong places.” He rattled off. He could remember playing this game with his mother, and later his Aunt Marie, learning about people just by looking at them. He could see now this game had been about teaching him how to look past what was immediately presented to him.

He’d been in training for this Grimm thing long before he’d ever known about it.

“Sounds like me!” Hank said, a smile in his voice, drawing Nick back to the present.

Nick smiled. “Yeah, look how you turned out.” He said, getting to his feet.

He wanted to be able to focus all of his attention on Monroe’s case, but that just wasn’t how police work panned out. There were never any all-consuming single cases, unless it was maybe a serial killer. He and Hank had four case files to go through, and were now adding a fifth.

The joy of being a Detective.

“Gilda Darner?” Nick asked when they reached her. She looked up at them, startled, but nodded. “Tell us what happened.”

~*~

When the call finally came it left Nick feeling confused, elated and disjointed all at once. They were just finishing up speaking with Gilda after their trip out to the Rabe household and were in the middle of discussing their next move when the phone rang. Nick fumbled with the screen to accept the call.

“Juliette? Everything ok? Do I need to come over?” he asked, worried.

“It’s… its going well.” Juliette told him.

“Your still there?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” she told him, and he could hear the sounds of Monroe’s voice in the background, rising and falling through what he had termed his ‘teacher’ voice. “Monroe has a lot of questions for your Aunt.”

“And she’s answering them?”

He heard Juliette’s smile, it was clear in her voice, surprised herself. “She hasn’t exactly had the chance yet, he asked her something about End-ze-chen-“

“Endezeichen Grimm’s,” Monroe said promptly and loudly.

“Yeah, those. And then decided to tell us all about what his brother had told him about them.” Juliette said, and lowered her voice. “Which is sort of disturbing, and I really don’t know what to make if it.”

Nick groped hopelessly for something to say, but came up with nothing.

“Don’t worry. We’ll see you later, ok?”

“Yeah… later.” Nick said, and hung up the phone.

Hank was watching him. “So, all quiet on the western front huh?”

Nick looked at him, his confusion must have been clear on his face, because Hank smirked at him, smug in the knowledge that he was right. “Oh shut up!” he snapped without heat. “What did you find out about the Rabe's?”

Hank collected his files to hide his smile and said. “Yeah, while you were having your little family domestic.” Nick glanced about on his desk for something to throw at his smug partner. “Their house backs up onto the national forest, 500 square miles of trees behind them, lots of places for Rocky to get lost.”

Nick nodded. “Ok, so we should pay the Rabe’s another visit, see what we can find out.”

The visit went as well as could be expected. With the added bonus of finding out that the family were Wesen. Nick knew he hadn’t hidden his reaction to the son changing very well, and the father, Frank Rabe, at the very least knew what he was. Given how Monroe had reacted to him, and what he had heard and read so far in the books, he could be grateful the man didn’t immediately go on the defensive. 

Though his ultimatum to contact him only through his law firm was a step in that direction.

“Ok, so you saw something.” Hank said when they were back in the car.

Nick nodded. “Yeah, something.”

“Blutbad?” Hank questioned.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Hank didn’t say anything else, just started the car and pulled away from the house.

“Look, Hank.” Nick started. “I know this is-“

Hank shook his head abruptly. “Nick, you have no idea how weird this is for me. I’m doing my best to believe you here. But it ain’t easy. Whatever you’re seeing, I’m not, and it’s hard for me to just accept it. If that kid hadn’t of said what he did, and if Juliette hadn’t called me out for coffee yesterday to talk about this…” Hank sighed. 

Nick sighed as well. “Yeah.”

“I believe you Nick.” Hank said after another heavy silence. “I do. It’s just… it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Nick tugged his notebook out of his pocket and started scribbling a quick drawing of what he had seen. “Can you drop me home?” he asked, concentrating on the drawing.

“Seeing as it’s your car, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Hank asked, tone teasing, but Nick was concentrating too hard to offer a rejoinder. “Hey, you gonna need some help looking up whatever these things are?”

“You offering?” Nick asked him. “Because you don’t have to Hank. I get that this is hard. And maybe I shouldn’t have told you about any of this…”

Hank snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, like you could have kept something like this secret. Come on, you can show me your aunts trailer.” Hank said, and turned the car in direction of Nick’s.

~*~

Juliette and Monroe were on the couch when Nick opened the door, ushering Hank inside, pages spread out around them. The coffee table was strewn over with Chinese cartons and Voodoo Donuts.

“Hey where’s mine?” Nick asked.

“In the fridge.” Juliette told him. “Hi Hank. We have some extra rice if you want to share Nick’s chow mein?”

Hank made his way to the table and snagged one of the donuts. “Nah, I’m good with these.” He told her.

“Hey!” Nick protested. “Those are mine!”

Juliette smiled. “You know, it’s obvious you two are cops.” She told them both.

Nick glared at her, but went to the kitchen to get his Chinese, heating it up in the microwave. He listened as Hank outlined the case to Juliette, no specific details, like names or places, because things like that could get them into trouble. But it was enough for her to get the gist of the case.

“And you saw another Wesen?” Juliette called out to Nick.

“Yeah.” Nick said, returning to the living room, plate in hand. He juggled with his fork so he could get his notebook out and tossed it to her. “Did a sketch, was thinking I could maybe show Aunt Marie tomorrow.”

“I can help.”

Monroe had been sitting so quietly through the whole conversation Nick had sort of forgotten he was there.

“Huh… I suppose you could.” Nick motioned for Juliette to show Monroe the picture. Monroe took the notebook and studied the image carefully.

“Jägerbar.” Monroe said at last.

“Jägerbar?” Hank asked.

Monroe nodded, and then seemed to take in the confusion of the adults around him and sighed. “You really aren’t very good at this at all.” He told them, then with an air of longsuffering, he reached into the pile of papers around him, flicking through them until he found the sheet he wanted and handed it across to Hank.

Hank took the sheet and read it warily. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears?” he asked.

Monroe nodded. “Jägerbar means bear, mostly… I think.” He explained. “The stories in my books are better than that one, and have all the right names.”

Nick took the printout from Hank and glanced over it. “You know, the whole case seems a little like this.” He said.

“Sure.” Hank said. “Like things could get any weirder around here.” He reached across to take another doughnut. “So now we know what they are, where do we start looking?”

“Aunt Marie’s trailer.” Nick told him.

“Can I see it too?” Monroe asked instantly.

“No!” Juliette said, and Nick thought it was a little unfair that he got glared at. It wasn’t like he had been going to say ‘Yes’, the last thing he wanted was for one of those clubs or maces to fall on Monroe’s head. “Not until Nick gets it cleaned up and locks put on certain doors and drawers.”

Nick waved his fork at her in supplication.

Monroe looked a little mutinous, but didn’t argue.

~*~

Nick felt a little like a child again when he let Hank into the trailer, vibrating with excitement, because despite how strange and unreal this whole situation was, there were things in the trailer that were just too cool for words. Once you got past the initial horror that most, if not all, had been used to kill something at one time or another.

Hank was suitably impressed, and spent a few minutes completely geeking out with him over certain things.

“I can see why Juliette doesn’t want to let you bring the kid in here.” Hank said, eyeing the array of weapons on display.

“Yeah. A bit much for a kid I guess.” Nick agreed.

Hank laughed. “Oh hell no, the kid would have a field day with these. That’s the problem.” Hank shook his head at him. “You have no idea what you’re getting into with this kid do you? Hell, even if he was normal you would have no clue.”

Nick flushed. “Yeah well, it’s not like I had any cousins or anything, so I don’t exactly have too much experience. Normal kid or otherwise.” He thumped Hank’s arm hard as he passed, and lifted some books off the shelf. “Here, start looking.”

Hank took the book and they settled in to search for any information that might be relevant.

An hour and a half later Hank shut the book he’d been reading and reached for the next. “Some sort of ‘contents’ page would be handy, or an ‘index’.”

Nick couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, that would definitely help. Everything’s so jumbled up.” He leaned back. “I think it’s a case of people just writing about what they saw when they saw it. No real planning behind it.” In fact the only book with any real consistency was the book on the Blutbaden, and he knew why that was.

“The problem,” Hank continued on, “is that there’s a lot of interesting things in here, some really freaky stuff yeah, but sort of interesting when you can understand the language they’re using. It’s way too easy to get distracted.”

Nick couldn’t argue with that either, because he’d had to force himself to keep looking for the Jägerbars when he found himself reading about something else entirely.

“And your ancestors man,” Hank kept on. “They did some pretty nasty stuff. I mean… whew, there are some things I did not need to know.”

“Yeah. There’s a lot of stuff in here no one would be proud of.” Nick agreed. “Aunt Marie was looking past the whole “Kill First” ethos. At least, that’s what I think she meant.” He sighed. “Well, as long as the Wesen isn’t a Blutbad.”

Hank didn’t reply to that, not that Nick expected him to. Nick went back to the book he was reading, flipping through a few pages.

"Jägerbars are bear-like creatures that date back to 900 AD. Jägerbars can live safely in society as long as they stay away from alcohol. Most Jägerbars are politicians and mortgage lenders.” It took Nick a minute to realise Hank was reading from the book, and another long second to realise he’d found something. “They use a rare Germanic weapon with a carved bear head and a claw-like scoop to disembowel their victims. This weapon is used during Roh-hatz, a coming-of-age celebration of a young Jägerbar from boy to man."

“Well that doesn’t sound good.” Nick said, looking over Hank’s shoulder.

“Not if they do have Rocky.” Hank agreed. “But what do we do with the information now we have it?”

Nick shrugged. “It’s not like we can just go to the Captain with this. He’d never believe us.”

“I don’t believe us.” Hank agreed.

“I’ll talk to Marie in the morning. Maybe she’ll be able to give me some more information on this Roh-hatz thing.” Nick suggested.

Hank nodded. “Sure, but if we wait… what’s that going to mean for Rocky? If these Jägerbars even have him. We can’t just go assuming they do just because they’re Wesen.”

Nick offered Hank a thin smile. “I don’t know.”

Hank shook his head. “What would we do if we didn’t know what they were?” he asked.

Nick shrugged; he could barely remember what they would have done. “Checked alibi’s, phone records, established whether any of the Rabe’s were anywhere near the house when Rocky went missing.”

“Ok, so we do that.” Hank said. “Once we know for sure if one of them was in the house we’ll have probable cause to search the grounds. I’ll put in the request when I get back to the station.”

“You’re going back to work?” Nick asked him in surprise.

Hank shook his head again, but smiled. “Still need to pick up my car.” He reminded him. “And no, before you ask, I do not want a lift. I can take the bus like everybody else for once. Go back inside to your girlfriend and your kid.”

“He’s not my kid, Hank.” Nick said.

Hank snorted. “Sure he’s not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nick watched his partner go, before tidying away the books and locking up the trailer. Then he went back into the house to find out exactly how things had gone in the hospital.

“She’s making an effort.” Juliette told him quietly, after Monroe had been sent upstairs and settled into bed. “She told me… She said there was a reason she doesn’t trust the Blutbaden. But she needs you to trust your instincts; she needs you to be able to make the distinction between the good ones and the bad ones.”

“But it’s so hypocritical.” Nick found himself saying.

Juliette pulled him into a hug. “I know.” She told him. “I know this is hard. But she was careful with him today. I’m not going to say she’s changed her opinion on the whole thing, but she was willing to see him for herself, to trust in what you saw in him. That’s a good thing right?”

Nick sighed. “I… Yeah, I guess so.”

Juliette stroked a hand through his hair. “Maybe after you clear this case you can ask for a few days off to spend with her. You don’t want your last time with her to be fighting over this. You’ll regret it forever Nick and I don’t want you to.”

Nick nodded. He wanted nothing more than to spend his aunts last days with him taking about the things they’d done together and the life they’d had. He wanted remember her as who she was. Just as his Aunt Marie. Not as the Grimm.

~*~

His talk with Aunt Marie the following morning offered no new information on the Roh-hatz, save that it was performed at sunset, which lent them time at least. News from Hank was better. They could place Barry Rabe, the son, at the house when Gilda and Rocky had been there.

They presented their findings to Captain Renard, who gave them the OK to get a warrant to search the house and grounds for the missing boy. Getting a warrant was not like it was shown on TV, they had to wait for an attorney to present the details of the case to a Judge, who would then either agree, or disagree, to there being enough evidence and probable cause to issue a warrant.

It took time, and they filled their time by looking over their other cases, most notably the one on the Lasseur family fire, because Nick needed to solve that case as soon as he could, because Monroe deserved that.

They got a call through before the warrant had been agreed to inform them that Gilda had made bail and was on her way to the Rabe house with a gun. He and Hank we in the car and away before Officer Wu had even finished talking.

What happened next was a mess of running and fighting and fast talking. Which ended, thankfully with nobody dead, Rocky and Gilda recovered and arrested for breaking and entering, Diana Rabe in hospital with terrible wounds from the trap her son and his friends had set up for their Roh-hatz chase, her son and his friends arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder. And Frank Rabe was left in the aftermath, a position Nick did not envy him in.

“She wanted them to know their heritage.” The man said, sounding more than a little lost. “She never understood the danger of it. It isn’t easy, to give up your history. You haven’t had to give up yours.”

Nick couldn’t help but think about the trailer in his driveway, and the history in there that he wished he didn’t have. But Nick didn’t let himself said something insensitive, because he wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like for Monroe, in a future where he stayed with him and Juliette. Could they take away his history? Refuse to let him acknowledge who he was?

“There have to be better ways.” Was what he did say, and he could see by the expression on Frank Rabe’s face that the man wished he had been able to find out what those better ways had been.

Nick nodded in sympathy, and hoped he would be able to find some of those long before they were ever needed. He made his way back to the car, more than ready to just go home, but knowing he had hours of paperwork to do before he could.

~*~

“Hey, you’re late.” Juliette greeted him when he finally got in.

“Yeah. Broke the case. Paperwork.” He said, he dropped a kiss to her head before moving round to take the chair, sinking into it with a groan. “You seem to have a lot of your own.” He said, waving a hand at the stacks of printed pages she had arranged around her, along with lined paper with her own noes on them.

She nodded. “I’ve been doing to research of my own on this Wesen thing. Monroe’s been helping me pick through the Grimm Brother’s fairy tales. There’s a lot of things in there that are true apparently.”

Nick nodded for her to go on, interested.

“But there’s one thing I think you should look at.” She picked up the closest pile of papers and handed it across.

Nick read the title on the printed page. “The Three Little Pigs?” he asked.

Juliette nodded. “Remember how Monroe said it was a Wesen he smelt the night of the fire? Well, I thought about it, and I figured something big enough to be recorded in one of the Wesen related fairy tales might be something worth looking into right? Well, Monroe told me that apparently Bauerschwein, which is the proper name for the Pigs in the story by the way, have a longstanding feud with the Blutbad. He said that they were normally the first Wesen to point the Grimm in the direction of the Blutbad in the past, for revenge for any Bauerschwein deaths in the area.”

She shrugged. “I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something right?”

Nick looked through the additional notes Juliette had made, obviously while Monroe had been telling her the story as he had heard it. “I don’t know how I could even start to look for a Bauerschwein,” he sounded the word out carefully. “But I’ll look into it. Maybe if we can find Hap and Angelina Lasseur they might be able to shed a little more light on the whole thing.”

“Do you think whoever it is will come back for Monroe if they find out about him?” Juliette asked.

“I don’t know.” Nick said honestly. “I hope not. But I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

Juliette offered him a smile. “Good.” She said, but he could see she was still worried. “Did you manage to get a few days off?” she asked.

Nick nodded. “Yeah, two days, on top of my regular two days off, so… We’ll see how it goes.”

“Ok. Come on to bed, that way you can be up early to visit Marie in the morning.” Juliette said, getting to her feet and quickly tidying the papers into a neat stack on the table.

“You mean so I can get up early to fix breakfast for our early bird.” Nick teased.

She laughed, but didn’t deny it, neither of them liked to get up early, but at the same time, neither of them could sleep through someone else moving round the house. “Maybe he’ll grow out of it.” Juliette said, and Nick didn’t correct her, because it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who had started thinking of Monroe being here long term.

~*~

Nick dreamed that night of a pig setting fire to their house, and Monroe screaming from inside.


	11. Chapter 11

When Hank called after the funeral with information on Monroe’s family, Nick was relieved, because he needed to be somewhere else, and work was a far better place than most. Or rather, introducing himself to people who didn’t know him, and who couldn’t look at him with that awkward, sympathetic expression, where no one could quite figure out what to say.

If he had to answer one more “How are you coping?” or nod his head to another “I’m sorry for your loss.” His back teeth hurt from holding back the snapping words he wanted to throw at everyone. He’d taken four days, and he hadn’t even managed two. 

They’d talked, about a lot of things, a lot of it had been things he needed to know, cautions against the Reapers, warnings to keep the trailer safe and out of the way, and to be careful about who he let inside. She didn’t bring up Monroe, and neither did Nick, and soon their conversations turned to their past together.

He’d gone homes for lunch with Juliette and Monroe on the second day, feeling lighter, and content, glad that he got to spend time with his Aunt, to reconnect. The new feelings about her had not vanished entirely, but as they had talked he was glad to know she was entirely different from the loving aunt he had known.

He’d gotten the call through dessert, and his good day had shattered into a million pieces.

Juliette, as she always was, was wonderful, she carried on as normal, holding him when he needed her to, and backing off when he didn’t. Monroe followed him around, like a silent shadow, taking in proceedings with a sombre air that didn’t suit the child at all. Somewhere in the midst of it all Nick realised that he didn’t even know if Monroe had seen his family’s burials, they had never thought to even take him to his families graves. Did Blutbaden even do burials?

He found himself reaching out to touch Monroe, to check he was there every so often. Making sure he hadn’t wandered off when he hadn’t been looking. The uneasy feeling he’d had for days over Monroe hadn’t faded, and he worried the boy would disappear without warning. He’d very nearly had a panic attack when he’d checked on him only to find his bed empty.

Thankfully Monroe had crawled out from under the bed, in wolf form, before Nick could raise the alarm, and the two of them where found dozing fitfully in front of the TV the following morning, some infomercial on the ‘perfect piece of jewellery’ playing near silently in the background.

Juliette had been concerned about Monroe’s full Woge, but had said nothing. There was nothing either of them could do unless Monroe talked to them first; neither of them knew where to even begin asking.

Death was not an easy thing to come to terms with. Nick knew that intimately.

The funeral came and went in a haze of ‘too fast’ and ‘too slow’, everything rushed together, the preparations, the reading he had to make. How to describe her, where did he even start? What did he want on her headstone? What sort of headstone did he want? Too many questions, too many things he needed to remember and decide on.

When it was done it was like everything inside him was spent.

So when the call came Nick took it, waving off Hank’s apologies, and told him he’s be in the next day and they could talk to Hap Lasseur, and hopefully get some answers.

~*~

Hap Lasseur was not what Nick was expecting. Big and broad, with a bounce in his step and a genuinely happy sort of expression. He made Nick think of a big dopey Rottweiler he had seen in the park once, not a hint of viciousness in him. Yet another Blutbad who did not conform to the stereotype so far as Nick could tell.

He made the effort to look serious, but it seemed like a lot of work for him to keep the half smile off his face, and halfway through introductions he gave in. “So what’s all this about? I don’t think I’ve done anything recently to get myself arrested.” His eyes flicked between Hank and Nick, but there was no actual concern in his gaze, just curiosity. “But I guess you probably wouldn’t have asked me down to the station if it was right? I mean, I’ve never actually been arrested, so maybe you don’t do it like on TV.”

“Mr Lasseur,” Nick said, finding a smile pretty easy to fix to his face. “We just have some questions about your brothers.”

“Call me Hap; Mr Lasseur was my father, and my brother.” The smile flickered off his face for an instant, before it was replaced by a slightly sadder one. “Questions? I was told they were accidents.”

“We have some new information that leads us to believe both may have been deliberate.” Hank said.

“Deliberate?” he asked, clearly confused.

Hank nodded, and gave Nick a look. This was not a conversation they could have in the squad room. “Mr Lasseur… Hap, let’s talk about this in private.” And he nodded to the interrogation room.

When they were settled inside Hank waved at Nick to start the ball rolling. Nick took a deep breath, remembering what his Aunt Marie had told him about Blutbaden and the possibility of their attack first mentality when it came to pack children. 

“Hap, what do you know about Bauerschwein?” he asked.

Hap frowned, and looked at him suspiciously for a minute. “Bauerschwein?” he asked. He deliberately Woged then, and Nick saw the instant he recognised him as a Grimm. Hap shook his head and the change receded. But there was no fear in his expression, just a curiosity very similar to Monroe’s. “A Grimm?” he asked, “And a cop? Is that even legal?”

Nick frowned in surprise at the reaction. “I…”

“Wow man!” Hap continued. “I’m living a piece of history right now! I didn’t think there were any of you left!” Then he turned to Hank. “And you know right? I mean, Grimm’s don’t go talking about Bauerschwein in front of just anybody… Wow.” Hap looked back at Nick. “A Grimm…” Only then did it seem to occur to him that he should be wary. “You’re not going to cut off my head right?”

Nick mutely shook his head.

“Yeah, don’t think that’d go over well with the Captain.” Hank said. “Especially as you’re not in any trouble.”

That seemed enough reassurance for Hap, because he leaned back in his chair. “Ok then. So what did you want to know?”

“Bauerschwein, I need to know about the feud, and if you know of anyone, Bauerschwein or otherwise, who might want to see your brothers dead.” Nick said, it was a long shot and he knew it, but he had to ask.

“Bauerschwein and Blutbad have been feuding for century’s man.” Hap explained easily. “We get blamed for every death, even the suicides. But I don’t think a Bauerschwein would ever do anything about it. I mean, they’re scared of us. And no one wanted my brothers dead. Rolf was like; a real solid citizen, and Bart man, guy was a total recluse. Never talked long enough with anybody to make anyone angry enough to hurt him.” Hap shrugged. “Except Angelina, but she wouldn’t have killed him, and especially not the kids.”

“Angelina is your sister right?” Hank asked.

Hap nodded. “Yeah. She was real pissed off with Bart when he got married, hasn’t seen him, or anyone else in the family in years. She’s down in New Orleans I think.”

“Didn’t like the woman he was marrying huh?” Hank asked. Nick knew Hank didn’t want to pin their case on some feud that might have nothing to do with anything. And statistically it was likely, if there was a murder like this in the family, that it was one of the people in line for an insurance pay-out. It was obvious to anyone that person would not have been Hap.

Nick didn’t believe it was Angelina either given what he’d learnt about Blutbad, but it was a way to learn more about these people before he had to give Monroe to them. The thought of Monroe leaving to stay with Hap, or the still unknown Angelina, did not ease the uneasy feeling that still followed him.

Hap shrugged. “Angelina always said she’d be the one Bart married.”

Hanks face twisted in disgust. “Is that some sort of weird Blutbad thing?”

Hap looked confused, before laughing. “Man! No! I thought you already knew, you know from all your super computer things. Bart was adopted. Mum and Dad took him in after his grandfather was killed by a Grimm; found him all by himself up in the mountains half dead. Angelina decided she was going to marry him before he was officially part of the family. It’s sort of hard to convince her to give up on things. So when Bart met Alice and they got married he and Angelina had a huge fight.” He shrugged. “Like I said, she hasn’t seen him or the family since. But she wouldn’t have killed him. Pack don’t kill pack.” He said with surety.

Hap looked between them, eyes suddenly sharp. “But why did you want to know about Bauerschwein? No offence,” he said to Nick, “But the first person that crosses my mind for killing a Blutbad deliberately is a Grimm.”

“None taken.” Nick assured him. “We have a witness, who puts someone else at the scene, a Wesen. They just aren’t sure what kind.”

Hap frowned. “A witness?”

Nick cast a quick glance to Hank, who gave him an encouraging look, Nick had explained what could happen, and he only hoped Hank was right and Hap would not try anything while in the police station. “You’re nephew survived the fire.” Nick said.

Nick stopped himself from flinching back when Hap Lasseur's face abruptly changed, eyes glowing sudden red, and face twisting in sudden anger. There was the ferocity he’d read about. But it was gone in an instant and Hap’s nose suddenly twitched, and he narrowed in on Nick, eyes still tinged red.

“Monroe.” He said.

Nick caught Hank’s incredulous expression from the corner of his eye, and if he hadn’t already believed, this might have nailed it, because there was no way Hap could know for sure, and it was plainly obvious he knew.

“Monroe’s alive.” And suddenly Hap’s face broke into an ear splitting smile and he leapt from the chair, and before Nick had the chance to even think to defend himself, he found Hap’s arms around him, lifting him in an ecstatic hug. He was dropped, and watched dazed as Hank was treated to the same thing.

“Wow, this is… This is just… Wow!” he clapped big hands on Nick’s shoulders. “Wow. I need to see him, like now, today.”

Nick could only nod, and Hap let him go and walked out of the room, grinning broadly. Hank gave him a sympathetic look, like he knew what Nick was thinking even when Nick did not. All Nick knew was the knot in his stomach had grown. Because Hap was going to take Monroe away, and Nick knew this little boy wasn’t going to be safe anywhere but with him and Juliette.

But what hope did he have of convincing anyone of that fact.

He followed Hank out of the room, trailing behind them, listening with half an ear as Hap asked if they could turn the siren on, on the drive back to Nick’s.

It felt a little bit like everything he had was slipping away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone who read the previous chapter 12.   
> I looked at it again today and really didn't like how Hap turned out in it, so I had to take it down and start again. I'm happier with this version, though I didn't manage to get as much done as I had hoped. I had wanted to add Monroe's side of the story in there, but it just isn't flowing propourly yet.
> 
> At any rate, I hope you enjoy.

Nick didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d brought Hap into his home. But whatever that may have been he certainly hadn’t expected it to go so fast. Before night had fallen, and long after Monroe had fallen into an exhausted sleep, everything had been decided, and Nick didn’t agree with any of it.

That made him feel guilty. Because it wasn’t Hap’s fault, and it wasn’t Monroe’s. It was just the way the cards fell.

“I can’t justify the expense of around the clock protection.” Captain Renard had told Nick, when Hank had told him what was going on. He’d called Nick back before they’d left. “And without some solid evidence of foul play I don’t think I can pull anymore strings.”

Nick couldn’t think of any way to explain his unease about the whole thing. Not without sounding crazier than he already did.

The social worker had come over after Juliette had called, and had spent a long time talking with Monroe, Hap, and lastly Nick and Juliette, before gathering the adults together to talk about what was best for Monroe. 

“He’s grown quite attached to you both.” She said to Juliette and Nick, “I don’t think it would be wise to move him abruptly, if it’s okay with you that he stays here for another week or so.”

“That’s no problem at all.” Juliette said instantly. “We don’t mind having him.”

Hap nodded along, agreeably enough. “I need time to get my place sorted. Never actually had any of the kids come stay with me before.” He smiled cheerfully, everything seemed just perfectly alright with his world, which was probably the case, for now, Nick allowed. The man had just gotten his nephew back. In the face of all that death, that was a miracle.

The social workers face became ever so slightly pinched, and Nick could see her planning out the home visits before ever letting Monroe into Hap’s place. “I am advising that Mr Lasseur spend as much time with his nephew as possible.”

“Not gonna be a problem!” Hap said easily. “My boss at the gym will be good to let me have some days. He was badgering me to take them after the fire, and after Rolf died. But you know, gotta stay busy.” His smile had flickered just a touch, revealing the grief that was carefully concealed beneath. “But this… Man, this deserves weeks off, and parties and- Oh man! I’m gonna have to get in touch with Angelina!” Hap said, suddenly dumbstruck. “I mean, whoa. I’m really gonna have to get her back here man!”

“Angelina?” the social worked asked, confused.

“My sister.” Hap explained. “I mean, she didn’t answer any of my messages about the funerals, but that’s just her, you know. She doesn’t like the whole funeral thing. But this she’s going to want to know!”

The social worker nodded. “Ok. Would you like me to stay to help arrange the times for the visits?”

Juliette smiled. “No, thank you. It won’t be a problem.” And she showed the social worker out.

Nick listened silently while Juliette worked out the details. She was going to have to go back to work soon, so really, Hap taking Monroe during the day was going to be more helpful than unhelpful. But that didn’t help the uneasiness any.

“I don’t think that would be a problem.” Juliette said suddenly, drawing Nick’s attention back with an elbow to his side. “Right Nick? It wouldn’t be a problem if Hap stayed the night.”

Nick looked between them, but it was Hap’s earnest expression that made up his mind. “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

Hap grinned. “Thanks’ man! I really wanna be here when he wakes up, you know.” Hap shook his head, that odd, dumbstruck expression that had been washing over his face a few times back again. “I mean, wow.”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed.

Juliette looked between them before clapping her hands. “So, anybody hungry?”

“Oh yeah!” Hap said, patting his stomach. “Starving!”

Juliette hesitated a moment. “You don’t need anything specific do you?” she asked.

Nick wondered briefly what exactly he was going to do if it turned out, for all his happy-go-lucky, jovial exterior, that Hap was a killer who hunted humans like the book said of Blutbad. He really didn’t want to find out. But he tensed, just in case.

“No, no, anything will do. Though I have a total craving for pork. All that talk of Bauerschwein puts me in the mood.” He must have seen something on Nick’s face, because he immediately laughed, putting up his hands in a show of peace. “Nah man, I’ve never killed a Bauerschwein, and my hunting days are done. I’m a Weider Blutbad now man. 100% changed man!”

“Weider?” Juliette asked.

Hap nodded. “A lot of us, and it’s not just Blutbad, there’s Lowen and all kinds, sometimes have… ‘Impulse control’ problems,” he explained, making the air quotes as he did. “But you know, we don’t want to be going round on rampages and stuff, so there’s like treatment places you can go that help ‘settle the urges’. I didn’t really need it, you know, not much for the whole hunt thing anyway. I mean why hunt down your food, when you can have it delievered, cooked to perfection, direct to your door 24 hours a day?” Hap looked positively gleeful, and Nick believed him. “I went with Rolf, for, like, moral support or something. He wanted to go Weider because of this girl he was seeing. He went like totally nuts on it man, went vegetarian.” Hap shuddered at the very idea.

“So these treatments? They really work?” Nick found himself asking, because if they did, they would probably have to put something in place for… Nick shook himself, because he was thinking ahead to something that was never going to happen.

“Oh yeah. It’s like those Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Some people fall off the wagon, but most of them are on it straight. They push for the whole vegetarian thing, like cutting out meat altogether is going to stop the ‘urges’. Now me…” he thumped his chest, “I reckon it’s better to just eat what everyone else eats. I mean, if humans can kill animals for food and sell it in shops, why can’t we just buy it. No hunting involved, but all ‘urges’ for meat, totally satisfied.”

“Makes sense.” Juliette said. “I ordered some Chinese.” She told them. Nick hadn’t even realised she’s left the room to make the call.

“Aw, thanks’ Juliette!” Hap smiled. “How much do I owe you?”

Juliette gave him a smile in return. “I’ll let you know when I see how much you eat.” She teased, and Nick wondered how she could be so… so friendly.

Later, when they had set Hap up on the couch, and had gone upstairs to check on Monroe, who was still sleeping, the tear tracks from his reunion with his uncle still clear on his face. Juliette wound her harms around his waist.

"Nick, are you alright?" she asked.

"I… I guess." Nick told her.

She knew he was lying, he knew she did, but she never called him on it. "I'll miss him too, when he goes." She said softly, hitting the real root of the problem. Because somehow Monroe had wormed his way inside Nick and was lodged in there deep, and Nick didn't know how he was going to get him out without tearing a hole in himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait, hopefully the next update won't be so long in coming.  
> I scrapped this chapter a lot of times before finally coming up with something I could sort of like. I'm not entirely happy, buti's moving in the direction I ned it to, so for now that's enough.
> 
> If you recognised the first part of this chapter you might want to reread chapter 12 as I replaced the chapter a while ago because I wasn't happy with it.
> 
> Please enjoy.

"So what now?" Hank asked.

It had been four days since they had reunited Monroe with his uncle, and the days were ticking down that Monroe would no longer be in Nick’s home, and under his protection. He’d gone back to Captain Renard, but with nothing more to offer than his own gut feeling that both the fire and the explosion were connected, and deliberate, he had known it would be a long shot.

There was so much of this case that he just didn’t know, and it had been dark the night of the fire, and Monroe was a child who had just seen his house go up in flames, and his family killed, he knew only that there had been someone there, and with no evidence of that, save for a traumatised (or so the social worker tried to have Nick believe) boy. They had effectively nothing.

"We have no evidence except for a witness who only smelt an intruder Nick. We're going to need more than that to do anything else with this." Hank continued, echoing Nick’s thoughts.

"I know that." Nick almost snapped, managing to hold back the bitter sound to the words. They’d been in the trailer for hours, searching for anything that might help them crack this case, but they’d gotten nowhere.

Juliette had called and told them to get back for dinner. Hap had had Monroe for the day, and was bringing him back and staying for food. So while they waited for the two Blutbad to arrive, he and Hank had fallen back to discussing the case.

Nick found himself assailed with a sudden burst of energy, unable to sit still while he waited and jumped to his feet. "He's not going to be safe with his uncle. Neither of them are going to be safe until we find out who's out to kill their family and why."

"Nick," Hank said reasonably. "We don't know if that's even the case." He held up a hand to forestall any arguments. "No, hear me out. I've been going along with your theory so far, but there's a lot of holes in it. And we can't base our conclusions on a children's story, a smell of some unknown Wesen creature, and a feud that's been going on for hundreds of years that we can't directly link to either fire. I'm not saying the kid didn't smell something. I'm not even saying that someone didn't set the fire, or start the explosion. I'm just saying that we can't focus only on your theory."

Nick ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed because he knew it was true. He had nothing to go on except wild theories and a gut feeling that something was going to happen if he let Monroe out of his sight for too long.

"We need something concrete before we can even start to convince the captain." Hank pressed. "So if you have something, I'd love to hear it."

Nick shook his head. "You know I don't."

"So why aren't you looking for the evidence you need?" Juliette asked suddenly, drawing their attention from the kitchen. She frowned at both of them, and Nick felt unaccountably like he'd disappointed her somehow. "Have you gone to look at the crime scene? Have you done forensics?"

Nick sat down, dumbstruck. Why was it suddenly so hard to think like a cop?

"Nick," Juliette said, making her way across to him, putting a hand on his arm. "I know this is confusing, and with Marie's death, and the funeral. I know things aren't making total sense yet. I know that. And I know Hank's still coming to terms with this whole thing. So am I. And I know it's easy to get caught up in the…" she struggled for the words before giving up. "It's too easy to get caught up in it, now that we know. But if you want to protect Monroe from whatever you think is out there, you're going to have to find out what that is first." Her voice gentled, and Nick was able to look at her finally. "So start from the beginning, take it piece by piece. We're all letting it overwhelm us."

"We can't see the wood for the trees huh?" Hank asked.

Juliette gave a laugh. "Something like that."

Nick took a deep breath, and did his very best to look at the whole situation logically. Like he would have if Monroe had been a normal kid, who had witnessed something that night. As if Wesen did not exist at all. It was hard, to let go of that knowledge now that he did know it, but he tried.

"We can't get a sketch of the person." He said at last. "Because Monroe didn't actually see them.

"And too much time has passed since the fire for whatever smell the kid picked up to still be there, so taking dogs up to look for a scent won't work." Hank pointed out.

"So if the crime scene's a bust then its people we look at."

"Well, if it is directed at the family itself like we think, and if Hap is to be believed, then there's nobody out there with grudges against either Bart or Rolf, so if someone killed them, it might have been to send a message to either Hap or Angelina?" Hank suggested. "Maybe one of them has done something, owes money or something, or got involved with the wrong sort of people."

"Maybe." Nick agreed. "We'll need to talk with Hap again; hopefully he'll be able to help us get in touch with Angelina as well." He caught the pleased look on Juliette's face out of the corner of his eye and uncaring that Hank was there; he leaned across and kissed her. "I love you." He whispered.

She smiled at him. "I know."

~*~

They didn’t mention the case over dinner, though Nick did ask Hap to come down to the station the following day to go over some things.

Monroe chattered on cheerfully about what he and Hap had done that day, showing off the new watch Hap had bought for him. It was an old watch, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place about 50 years ago, and yet somehow looked perfectly normal around the wrist of a nine year old boy.

Monroe was very pleased with it, probably more so than if he’d been bought a new toy, not that Hap hadn’t been lavishing him with those anyway, including a complete set of fairy tales. Nick had leafed through one in curiosity when Monroe had left it out one morning, and had shut it again not long after, the contents more than a little disturbing for him.

Hap was unrepentant about the whole thing and Nick could only trust that he knew what Monroe could handle, because Nick was currently rethinking all previous assumptions on what might be considered too much for a Blutbad child.

Dinner went well, and when it was done, Hap gave Monroe another of his bone crushing hugs before he left, promising he’d be at the station early in the morning. Juliette had seen him to the door, having taken a huge liking to the man, leaving Nick to usher Monroe upstairs to bed, because it was getting late.

“I’m going to be leaving soon aren’t I?” Monroe said suddenly. “To live with Uncle Hap.”

Nick stopped at the door, having just been about to leave, and turned back. “Yeah.” He leaned against the door. He waited for the boy to say more, glad that it was Monroe’s nature to talk; otherwise it would have been a long wait.

“I tried to explain to the social worker. But she isn’t one of us, so I don’t think she understood.”

“Tried to explain what?” Nick asked, confused.

Monroe didn’t look at him, just fidgeted with his new watch, which was when Nick knew this was very serious, because normally his lack of knowledge over anything prompted a far too adorable exasperated look. “Monroe.” He prompted, moving away from the door when Monroe still didn’t answer.

“Uncle Hap is fun.” Monroe said. “And he buys me stuff, and takes me to cool places. But…” he trailed off unhappily.

Nick cast a glance towards the door, but he could still hear Juliette talking with Hap so he knew there was not going to be any rescue from there. It didn’t stop him hoping though, because he could have used Juliette right now. “But?” he said, sitting on the bed beside him.

“But…” Monroe began again taking a deep breath. “He’s not… not…”

Monroe gave a sudden growl, clearly annoyed that he couldn’t complete the thought, whatever it was. “Never mind.” He said suddenly. 

Nick couldn’t think of what to say to make it better. He thought he knew what Monroe was trying to say, but there was no way to reply that wouldn’t be getting hopes up on all sides. He mentioned it to Juliette later, who gave him a fond smile and a kiss before promising she’d talk with Monroe in the morning.

Nick couldn’t help but think she knew something more than he did, which was unsettling, and entirely unfair. But he would hold his own consul for now. He had other things to worry about, top priority of which was making sure Monroe stayed safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Additional Notes I think you ought to know to help make my little AU make more sense. (more may be added at some later stage)
> 
> Monroe's Imeadiate Family;  
> Bart Lasseur, Father  
> Alice Lasseur, Mother  
> Ethel Herrman, Grandmother (maternal)  
> Marlon Lasseur, older brother (15 years old)  
> Margaruite & Melissa Lasseur, older sisters (13 years old)
> 
> Grimms;  
> 1.Grimms (In this story at least), pass their sight on through the death or Injury/ilness that will result in death. Which is why Nick was unaware that he was a Grimm. Most Grimms are informed of the Wesen world long before getting the sight, Nick was not.   
> 2\. Though there are many different Grimm Bloodlines, and proof that there were many that exsisted in the past, Grimm numbers have dwindled out drastically as time moved on, leading to them becoming an almost mythological entity to most Wesen, leading to a lot of the Wesen fairytales about them to be of "One Grimm". Because it is both far more frightening, and yet far more reassuring to have only one enemy, and not hundreds.
> 
> Monroe's History/Information Lessons;  
> 1\. Monroe in the TV show knows a lot about both the world of the Wesen and the Grimms, I believe this is because he was completely enraptured of the stories in grandmother told him as a child, and as he grew older he wanted to know more about these things. (I also believe that he would have made an awesome Wesen History Professor, if Wesen University's exsisted).  
> 2\. The Monroe in this story doesn't have grown up Monroe's research and knowledge, he's depending entirely on his grandmother's lessons and the stories he's heard from his parents and older siblings (as well as the fairytales he has read), which is why a lot of what he says might seem annoyingly incorrect to those of us who have watched the TV show. This is also why he knows some rather unsavoury stories, because older siblings do have an unfortuante habit of telling younger one's things they really shouldn't, and I believe Wesen (or at least Monroe's family did is the TV show to be believed), tell their children the darker stories when they become teenagers.
> 
> I hope this helps on some of the issues that might crop up. If there's anything you'd like me to explain let me know and I'll do my best.


End file.
